


Memories of Deception

by professorflo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Complete, Emotional Manipulation, Fingering, Love, Submission, Torture, non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 07:02:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 73
Words: 257,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10894197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professorflo/pseuds/professorflo
Summary: Hermione wakes and finds herself given to Snape as his prisoner. He has been tasked with breaking her and finding information about Harry, but Hermione cannot remember anything from the past year. Why does she keep blacking out, and where are these strange feelings for her captor coming from? Eventually SSHG Complete





	1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I in no way own these characters. No money is being made and no copyright infringement is intended.

This will be a dark story, with some rape and torture, although it will not be this way throughout. The first few chapters are the worst before it begins to change. Please do not read if you find these subjects affect you in any way. For those who do not like a bad Snape, I would ask that you give this a chance. There is more going on than first appears.

I apologise for any grammar or spelling mistakes. This is my first story and I have no Beta. This is a long story. Any critique and advice is welcomed.

* * *

 

Hermione woke with a scream as rough hands shook her awake. Realising suddenly where she was and who was looming above her she scrambled back until she was pressed up against the wall. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, as if to dislodge the memories of the previous few days, but they wouldn't leave her. Trapped in the corner, she waited for those cool hands to grab her again, to force her down and….

A few moments later she became aware that she hadn't been touched. She opened her eyes and looked up to see him standing in the same place he had woken her up from, having only unbent himself to stand up straight and pull his robes tightly around him.

Cold, dark eyes observed her dispassionately for a moment before he snapped, "This will be the first and last time I will wake you. You will be ready at 6.30 every morning when I unlock your door. Failure to be ready will result in….punishment." He curled his lip. "Failure to comply with any order will result in the same."

He flung a previously un-noticed grey dress at her and snarled, "Put it on." With a flush of colour, Hermione realised she was naked and had left the thin blanket she had huddled under for sleep behind further down the bed. She quickly tried to pull the dress over her head while covering herself from the eyes that watched her shame without mercy.

"Don't bother," he drawled, "It's not like I've not seen it before." She cringed and looked away. She couldn't think about that right now. The events of the last few days seemed hazy, as if she was viewing them through a thick fog. Maybe that was for the best at the moment. She had to focus on getting out of her current situation, and the horrors she had experienced would only slow her down if she let herself think about them.

She dared to flick her eyes up at him. His face was unreadable in the gloom of the windowless room, but there was no trace of the leer she had expected to see accompanying his words. She swallowed and finished pulling the dress down quickly over her legs.

The dress barely came down to her knees, and the thin material did very little to dispel the bone-deep chill she felt. The fabric was old and worn, but clean, and considering the last few days, afforded her more dignity than she had expected.

"Move," he said, and Hermione quickly scuttled away from the bed, only for him to grab her by the hair, pulling on it roughly, as he snarled, "On your knees." She dropped immediately, unwilling, for now, to risk any punishment or…. She shied away from the thought.

From her position on the floor she glared up at him, unwilling to submit herself completely to him. He scowled down at her, a look so full of hate she was soon forced to lower her gaze.

"Since I have been burdened with your irritating presence, I will have to make the most of it. You will be waiting for me, on…. your…. knees at 6.30 every morning. There will be many tasks for you to perform each day, preparing my meals, cleaning these rooms and whatever else takes my fancy. You will not touch, move, or open anything except to fulfil your duties. You will never enter my study, or leave these rooms without express permission. You will speak only when asked a direct question. I am not interested either in any questions you may want to ask me, or your incessant know-it-all chattering.

"Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded her head.

"I asked you a question, answer it."

"I understand"

"You will refer to me as 'Master'."

She turned her face up and glared at him. "You…"

"Quiet," he hissed, and backhanded her hard across the face. "Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not forget your place, mudblood."

Hermione fell to the floor with the force of the slap. Tears clouded her vision, as much for the insult as the pain across her face. She tried to blink them back, unwilling to show him how much he had hurt her.

He grabbed her and dragged her back up to her knees. "You had better learn your place quickly, girl, or it will be all the worse for you. Besides your duties here you will sometimes be accompanying me to… meetings. You will find that, compared to my associates, I am an extremely lenient man, and if you do not learn how to behave you will receive much worse at their hands. You are lucky to be alive. If you were not friends with Potter you would not be. As it is, the Dark Lord deems you useful….. for now."

He wrapped his hands in her hair again and wrenched her head back, looming over her so that his face was only a few inches from hers. A flush of fear and a crawling feeling at the touch of his hands ran through her body, but she dampened it down as quickly as she could and tried not to squirm in his grasp. She looked up into his eyes again, swallowing painfully at the hate she saw in them.

"Never look your betters in the eyes, mudblood. Look any Death-Eater in the eyes and you'll get more than a slap for your trouble."

Hermione's mouth moved silently in protest, but she dared not say anything, at the mercy of his will as she was.

"I said, don't look at me," he hissed.

Her brow wrinkled in consternation. He was so close that she couldn't see anything but his face, but as his face darkened at her disobedience she quickly looked down, and fixed her gaze on his cruel mouth.

His lips lifted in a sneer. "Good. You'd better learn how to behave quickly, as we will, no doubt be called upon to attend a revel soon. Knowing your preference for rule-breaking, I expect I will have to spend an irritatingly long time instructing you before your manners are… acceptable, since I cannot give you a book to study on the subject. What will Little-Miss-Know-It-All do without her books to tell her?"

Hermione flushed at the insult, and opened her mouth to reply, but was thrown to the ground before she could get a word out.

"Now get out. You will find everything you need in the kitchen. I will expect breakfast to be ready in twenty minutes. I will be waiting in my library."

Hermione was thrown out into a wide hall with several doors. Without knowing which was the kitchen she turned quickly to the door closest and touched the handle.

"And where are you going?" a voice drawled dangerously behind her.

Hermione jumped round, fixing her eyes on the bottom of the black robes in front of her.

"I was looking for the kitchen, since I don't know where anything is. For that matter, I don't even know where HERE is."

"The kitchen is through that door." He waved a pale hand languidly in the direction of a door further down the corridor. "The door through which you were going to force your insufferable self a moment ago is my bedroom. To the right is the bathroom and this one is my library. There are wards on all the books, girl, so don't think to stick your nose in where it doesn't belong. My study, with which I am sure you are more familiar, having, in the past, called upon our dear departed headmaster, is through there," he sneered as he waved at the door at the far end.

Hermione gasped quietly, her fingers going to her mouth. She was at Hogwarts. Was there any way to use the castle's sentience to aid in her escape? Glancing back at her room her stomach dropped. It hadn't stopped him from taking over the school and mistreating the students. The castle had obviously permitted him to enter Dumbledore's office and take his place. She suddenly felt inexplicably betrayed. How could she expect help? It had allowed her to be imprisoned in these walls, without any way out that she could tell.

His next words brought her back: "I will remind you again, as doubtless you have already disregarded my previous warning, not to open the door to my study unless instructed to do so… And do not think that your impertinent speech will go unpunished. We will discuss it later."

 _That's completely unfair,_ she thought to herself, but wisely kept her mouth shut. _How am I supposed to know where to go or what to do without being show, or asking?_

"Sir…" He snarled, but she pushed ahead regardless. She was going to be punished anyway, so she might as well voice her request now and get it all over at the same time. "I need to use the bathroom first."

Hermione had been left in her room long enough to sleep and feel rested, and before that she had not been in a position to relieve herself for hours.

"Be quick about it. We have more… issues to discuss while I am eating," he growled, before turning and disappearing thought his library door. "You now have 15 minutes."

Hermione ran quickly to the bathroom. It was stark and bare, plain tiles with a large freestanding bath. She frowned. These chambers were nothing like what she had expected the headmaster's rooms to be like. Dumbledore's office had always seemed so warm and inviting, while these rooms were so cold and unwelcoming. Like their owner, she thought. Maybe they change with the user, she mused. She quickly pushed all thoughts out of her head and hurried to do what she had entered for, before scurrying to the kitchen.

 _At least this room is well equipped,_ she thought, as she hurried to pull out eggs, bacon and bread. Luckily the old fashioned stove was one that was constantly alight, and was ready to cook on, as well as helping to take the edge off the numbing cold she felt.

Wishing for her wand to make things simpler, she quickly toasted the bread and fried the others. Serving them onto a plate she had found in a cupboard and placing them on a tray with some cutlery, she left the room and made her way to the library. There was no way to tell how long she had taken. Her watch had been lost somewhere along the way, and there were no clock that she could see.

Balancing the tray in one hand she put her hand to the iron handle, twisted it and pushed open the door.

"In future you will always knock and wait for permission before entering any room." He paused. "I see I have my work cut out for me in teaching you manners befitting a servant. Hurry up, girl, and put it on my desk."

Hermione quickly walked across the worn carped and placed the tray on edge of the desk that he was sitting behind. It was covered in papers and books, some of which she had never seen before, and her hands twitched at her sides as she thought of getting hold of one to read. Seeing her looking, he smirked. "I'm sure you will enjoy my collection. Dusting them that is." He waved his hand lazily around the room.

She looked up for the first time, finally noticing the walls covered with hundreds of books, many of which, she was sure, were not in the restricted section, and were probably impossible to find another copy of. She followed the line of the bookcases as they disappeared up several stories into the gloom.

"That old fool left me quite the collection, which I have of course added to with my own. Pity that opening any one, or even trying to read any of the papers lying around will leave you with a terrible headache, or worse." He glanced down at the tray of food. "This is barely adequate, but will have to do for now, as I have an appointment to keep." Pushing some paper's aside he pulled the tray in front of him and started to eat.

"On the floor, girl. I will not have you looming over me."

Startled from her curious perusal of the room, Hermione sank to her knees. _You're pathetic_ , she thought to herself. _Stand up for yourself. No, no, no. Wait until you understand more of what is happening around you and make a plan. That's what you've always been good at. You've managed to keep those two boys alive for the last 6 years by checking your facts and thinking ahead._

He spoke as he ate. "In addition to cooking and cleaning, you will make sure my robes are always washed and ready. You may of course wash your own dress, but be careful not to damage it, for you will not get another. Consider yourself lucky to have even that one. Most mudbloods that have kindly been taken in by the Dark Lord's faithful followers are not given any clothes, but considering the temperature of these rooms I will allow it. I will not waste time making potions to heal you if you catch a cold, and the view does not interest me either." He looked her up and down with disdain, and her cheeks coloured.

"After your binding last night you will not be able to use any magic again. I hold the binding on you, and I will never permit it to be lifted. Even if you get your hands on a wand you will not be able to use it. I expect obedience in all things. If you cannot understand my simple instructions and feel the need to ask impertinent questions you will suffer the consequences. Understood?"

"Yes."

He looked up again. "Yes…what?"

"Yes… Master," she whispered, still unwilling to push him further, aware that she already had a punishment coming. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to show the tears of humiliation that were threatening to spill out. She didn't hear him leave his chair and stand beside her.

"Tidy that up and get to work. I will expect dinner at 6." And he swept out of the room with a swish of his black robes.

Hermione stayed on the floor for a few moments, collecting herself. _I will get out of this,_ she thought. _I will find a way to escape, and get back to my friends. And I promise, when I get away I won't leave you behind to rule Hogwarts. I won't let you do what you've done to me, to anyone else if I can help it. You bastard, Snape!_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

After a few moments Hermione pushed herself up off the worn carpet and grabbed the tray. May as well see what I've got to work with, she thought. After washing the dishes in the large sink, she made herself a few pieces of toast and set to exploring the kitchen.

After a thorough search, she had found little of any use except a few sharp knives and a cupboard full of cleaning supplies. There were two small pantries full of food, one with a charm on to keep the air cold and preserve the meat and other perishable items inside. Hermione wondered how she would be expected to keep it stocked. Probably one of those irritating questions that I am not allowed to ask, but will be punished for not asking when he has nothing left to eat, she thought bitterly.

Out of the cleaning cupboard she pulled a duster and a rag, along with some muggle cleaning sprays. The block of knives on the counter caught her eye again. I wonder if he would notice if I took one. Not that I have anywhere to hide it in this dress. She touched the smallest handle, thinking about where she could hide it. A burning pain shot up through her hand and she knocked the block flying. Knives flew across the counter as the block hit the wall. Clutching her hand beneath her breasts Hermione peered down at it, looking for the burn. Nothing, except the shackle marks left there on her wrist from the previous night. Her hand shook as she extended her arm and examined it carefully. A hex, she thought. Bastard! There goes that plan. Andhow am I supposed to prepare mealswithout a knife to chopwith?

It took her a moment to realise that she had already used the larger bread knife already that morning, when preparing Snape's breakfast. I wonder… She gingerly placed the block upright and reached out to touch the bread knife, intending only to tidy it away. When her hand closed around the handle without a repeat of the earlier, nasty shock she sighed with relief.

It's hexed only to burn when I intend harm with it, she thought. Bloody man thinks of everything. Carefully she tidied the rest of the knives away, taking care to keep her mind off what she would like to do to Snape if given the chance.

Placing the cleaning supplies into a bucket she had found behind the door, Hermione left the kitchen. Where to start, she wondered. I'll clean as I search. No point in rousing his anger any more. A shiver went through her at the thought of her pending punishment. Whatever he did, it couldn't be much worse than what she had already been through at his hands the previous night. No, don't think of that, not yet, a little voice whispered. Got to be strong.

Slowly she turned the handle of the first room she came to, and pushed it open. Back in the bathroom again, she eyed up the large bath, longing to turn it on and relax her sore muscles for a while. Hermione decided to move on to the next room and leave the bathroom for last. If she was quick going through the rest of the rooms she would have a quick bath. She felt disgustingly dirty, despite having been dragged half-senseless from her room and flung underneath the showerhead that hung over the bath the previous night. A few minutes of huddling under the cold water had barely rinsed away the filth and none of the disgust she felt, before she had been dragged back out. A quick drying spell had been waved over her shivering body and then she had been pushed back into the room that she assumed was to be hers.

The last thing she remembered was being pressed down on the small, hard bed in the corner, and diving under the blanket, wrapping herself away from his merciless eyes as fast as she could. He had leaned over her as she cringed away from him, half expecting a repeat performance. "Close your eyes," he had demanded. She had complied quickly, glad for the excuse to shut out the sight of his hard, unfeeling face. She crouched on the bed tensely, waiting for his next move. There had been a slight rustle, and then… nothing?

Hermione wrinkled her eyebrows in thought. She couldn't remember anything after that until she had been woken up so rudely. He must have knocked her unconscious with a silent spell, she realised, but why? She was grateful at least for having had a decent rest, for without the spell she was sure she would have laid awake all night, and still have been a sobbing wreck this morning. He obviously needed me fit and able to work this morning. He didn't do it out of any concern my well-being.

That mystery solved, she suddenly remembered something else. My wrists… Dropping the bucket and holding both arms out in front of her, palms up, she examined them with growing astonishment. But… how? After her capture she had been shackled for hours in a small room underneath Malfoy Manor. Her wrist and ankles had been left sore and bleeding, and there had been more than a few kicks aimed at her body and legs over the course of the day.

Why was she not sore and aching? She should have had difficulty moving this morning, but her wrists had only a slight band of slightly tender, dark skin when they had previously been oozing blood. She touched the skin gently. Looking down at her ankles she realised they were barely marked either, and quickly pulling up her dress she noted with confusion that the bruises on her legs and side were a dull greeny-brown. They looked a few days old at least.

How could that be? She had only been captured late the previous night, and had spent the day at the manor, first chained to the wall, and then…

**flashback**

A slap across the face roused her from her stupor, and when her head cleared she looked up into the sneering face of Lucius Malfoy.

"I see I have the … pleasure… of welcoming dirty mudbloods into my home once again," he leered. "I hope you enjoy the evening's entertainment. I know I will. This evening more than usual." He cast his eyes down her body as she shivered under his gaze. With a flick of a plain black wand the tattered remains of her clothes disappeared, and she tried to pull her arms and legs in to cover herself, but they were bound tight by metal shackles. Malfoy reached out his hand to grope her, squeezing hard enough to bruise before smirking at her horror and discomfort at the feel of his hands. He stepped away.

"I imagine you are extremely eager to join us all upstairs, where of course you will have the honour of being allowed into the presence of the Dark Lord himself. I'm sure he will enjoy your company this evening."

Hermione barely had time to make a sound of dismay at his words, before, with another wave of his wand, the shackles on her wrists and ankles opened, and she fell forwards, her legs weak from the unnatural position she had been left in for so long. She fell hard, hitting the floor with her knees and elbows as Lucius deftly stepped out of the way. Touching the wounds on her wrists numbly, she heard Lucius speak again.

"Bring her upstairs, Wormtail. And no touching, you filthy rat. Not until the Dark Lord has finished with her at least."

With a start he noticed the other…man… in the room, cowering rodent-like in the shadows behind Lucius. The blonde-haired man glanced down at her exposed body on the floor, before turning and stalking away, exiting the room though a narrow door on the opposite side.

Wormtail lunged at her, sinking his long nails into the flesh of her upper arm as he dragged her to her feet. She tried to pull out of his grip, disgusted by the cold clammy feeling of his hand on her skin, but his wand was immediately at her throat. "Just give me a reason, go on. I'd love to get my hands on more than the other's leftovers for once." His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he looked down at her with twisted desire. "No? Best not keep them waiting then."

He pushed her roughly through the door, his hand still wrapped firmly round her arm, and up a steep flight of steps into a dim corridor barely less dark and dank than the cellar she had just left. Panic was starting to rise in her throat, and her stomach was heaving. This is it, she thought. What are the chances of me leaving this place in one piece? She kept her thoughts carefully away from what she suspected might happen to her before the night was through, or she would have thrown up there and then, despite her best efforts to keep her terror under control.

Wormtail dragged her towards the door at the end of the corridor, while she tried her hardest to talk herself into a measure of authority over her gibbering emotions. Stand up straight, courage. You're a Gryffindor. You've been in bad situations before and always got out. Don't shame yourself and give them what they want to see, they will humiliate you enough without you adding to it. Damn, what I would give for my wand. She took a last hurried breath and pushed her feelings into the tightest ball she could as they stepped through the doorway.

She stepped out into a large room, elegantly furnished, though, like darkly lit and dreary. What is it with these people? Just because they're bad doesn't mean they all have to like their houses cold, dark and furnished in grey and black. The thought made her lips quirk slightly before her attention was captured by the number of people standing in small groups scattered around the room. Slowly, as more of them spotted her and her escort, the quiet murmuring around the room faded into silence.

Wormtail released his grip and motioned with his wand across the room. She decided to take the initiative and stepped in front of him, walking slowly, with her head held up across the room, to where she could see the back of Lucius Malfoy, standing next to another figure in dark robes. She was someone who thrived on control. The situation was out of her hands, but at least she had some authority over how she would meet the terror awaiting her. As she passed the other groups of Death-Eaters the few women flicked their robes away from her in disgust, while the men leered at the side of her dirty body on display.

Nearing her destination, she realised with a start that there was another figure, hidden behind Lucius and the other man. Voldemort. Her stomach clenched again, and she almost swayed on her feet. The blonde Death-Eater finally noticed her arrival and turned to meet her with a twist of his lips, but she only had eyes for the snake behind him.

"Aahhhh, Potter's mudblood friend, come to join the fun." The Death-Eaters standing close enough to hear chortled softly. "Ooh, but what a brave little Griffindor, looking her betters in the eyes. Shall we teach her the proper way to greet her Lord?" Without waiting for an answer he waved his wand and hissed. At once, Hermione's felt invisible ropes wrap around her limbs and body. She was dragged down to her knees, her torso pulled backwards and her head back as far as it could go, while her arms were pulled out to the sides so hard she felt her muscles creak.

A ripple of laughter spread through the room, and Hermione's eyes filled with tears at the searing pain in her muscles. "Now that you have been show the correct way to present yourself, we can decide what to do with you. After we determine the whereabouts of Harry Potter, of course."

"Shit! Shit! Shit! panicked Hermione. What if he looks in your mind. You have no chance of keeping him out. Voldemort loomed over her, and with bone-deep terror she realised that he was about to do exactly that. A narrowing of his snake-like eyes was all the warning she got before her head exploded with pain.

Flashes of times she had spent with Harry raced by: the boys and her, laughing over some lame joke of Ron's in the common room; Harry and Ron stuffing themselves at a feast, while she surreptitiously tried to read a book while joining in the conversation just enough for them not to notice and tease her; relaxing together and discussing classes for the next year in her bedroom in Grimauld Place.

Not what he wanted. The images flickered faster: Snape smacking Harry over the head with a thick book in a potions class; Harry with his face scrunched up in pain as he told them he was leaving to rescue Sirius at the Ministry; his face covered with tears as he described Snape killing Dumblebore.

She heard a snarl from Voldemort as he pressed himself in further, still unable to find what he was looking for. Memories flashed through her consciousness so fast she could barely see them, as he invaded every corner of her mind. She became aware of both sounds at the same time; a loud screaming sound almost drowning out a growing shout of frustration. Harry, Harry, HARRY, HAARRRRYY! At the same moment she realised the scream was coming from her own lips, she hit an invisible wall in her mind. Both herself and Voldemort slammed into it with numbing force, and her mind folded in on itself and everything faded to white.

She came to a while later. As she floated back up to consciousness she tried her best to stay still and not to groan at the pain lacing through her head. As soon as the world had stopped spinning she cracked her eyes open to try and determine where she was.

She seemed to be lying curled up on a table, in an unfamiliar room. There was whispering coming from the far end of the rooms, above her head. Voldemort, she realised. She would never be able to forget that snake-like hiss. Whatever was being discussed, he did not sound happy. Hermione suddenly jerked at a familiar name… "Severusss…" With dismay she recalled the dark man who had been standing next to Lucius Malfoy. She hadn't glanced at him, her eyes had been fixed on Voldemort, but she knew now that it was him. Despite her hatred of him, she shook with the shame at the thought of being seen, trussed up and naked, by the man who had ridiculed her talent and sneered at her capabilities continually for the past six years.

His smooth tone pierced the quiet of the room, and she strained to hear him.

"My Lord, her mind has obviously been tampered with recently, I assume to hide whatever information she possesses that may help us to find and destroy Potter. If my Lord agrees, I would suggest that…" his voice lowered and Hermione could no longer make his words out.

"Yessss, Serverusss, your plan pleases me. I will allow you to take her. I will inform you to bring when to bring her back here, and you will keep me informed of your progress. Make sure you teach her how to behave, and see to it that she is punished for any misdeeds appropriately. If you do not deal with her properly I will have to turn her over to Lucius. His appetites are insatiable and he has been begging me to break the mudblood bitch in."

"I assure you, my Lord, I will make sure she does not enjoy her time with me. That insufferable know-it-all brat has plagued my life for six long years and I look forward to spending some more time with her now that I am allowed to instruct her...properly."

There was a rustle of robes as the two wizards drew closer to her. Hermione tensed, waiting for something to happen.

"Ahh," Voldemort whispered, "I see our little mudblood is awake and listening avidly to our conversation. It looks like she is in need of her next lesson. 'Crucio'!"

**End Flashback**


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

This is a fairly graphic chapter, with violence and hints of rape in the first half, although I have not given any details of the latter. If you do not wish to read it, I have included a quick recap of the chapter at the bottom.

* * *

 

As the cloud lifted from her head, Hermione realised that she had sunk to the floor of the bathroom and there were silent tears running down her cheeks at the weight of the memories.

After passing out from the sheer agony of Voldemort's Cruciatus curse she had awoken to find herself spread out on the bed in her room last night. Wrapping her cold body in the blanket she had been lying on, she had tentatively explored the new territory; a small dark room with no window, lit with a dim glow that came from no discernable source. The only furniture was the uncomfortable, narrow bed with no pillow and the blanket that did little to protect her from the winter cold, and one plain, old-fashioned wooden chair.

She had settled back down on the bed to wait, drawing her feet up under her and draping the blanket as tightly as possible around her naked body. Despite the tension and worry she felt at waiting for something to happen she had eventually begun to doze when the door had banged open without warning.

The dark figured silhouetted by the brighter light outside the room could only be one man. Snape. Hermione had instantly felt sick to her stomach. She wasn't sure what was coming, but she know it would not be a pleasant experience. Snape had slowly stalked across the room, slamming the door shut behind him with a flick of his wrist. Hermione's eyes widened and she frantically looked for another way out, despite knowing there was none.

As he had crossed the room, his face, which had been hidden in shadow, came into view. His lips were pressed tightly together, thick eyebrows drawn down low and a deep light in his eyes. He was furious, Hermione had realised with a gulp. Six years of potions and then Defence against the Dark Arts with the loathed Gryffindors, six years of Harry and Ron and herself infuriating him, Neville consistently blowing up his cauldrons, all their escapades which had unfortunately come to his attention, and she had never seen him look so enraged.

Hermione shuddered again at the thought of the look on his face. Taking a deep breath she attempted to push the memories out of her head, succeeding only when the ache in her legs made her realise how long she had been slumped on the cold, tiled bathroom floor. She slowly stood up, the muscles in her legs protesting. Finally making it onto her feet, she picked up her bucket again, left the bathroom and moved down the hall towards the end. Her room was the last on this side, with Snape's bedroom opposite. She needed a few more moemtns to completely collect herself before she could face the place where he slept, so she opened the door to her room, intending to check it quickly for any obvious dirt or dust that she could clean once she had finished Snape's rooms.

As the door swung open she realised she had make a mistake in returning to this room so soon after reliving the memory of the previous night. Her eyes fell immediately on the wall by the bed, and on two small smears of dirt around shoulder height. Hand over her mouth, she stepped closer, finally understand what they were… two small partial fingerprints made in blood. His blood.

With a cry of disgust and dismay she grabbed a cloth out of the bucket, which was then dropped without thought and she flung herself at the wall and started scrubbing it wildly.

The marks were long gone before she stopped scouring then wall and only when her fingers started to go numb from clenching the rag so tight in her fist did she sink to the floor, wiping away the tears that had started to fall once again.

She had curled in on herself, trying to shield her exposed skin from his merciless glare, but he wasn't even looking. He had ripped the blanket from her shoulders and grabbing her arm, had pulled her onto her feet and held her by the shoulders while he glowered down at her.

His rough manhandling of her after the indignity she had suffered at Malfoy Manor made her snap suddenly, and she had lunged at him, clawing and scratching any part of him she could reach. However, wrapped up in his usual layers of black cloth, there were very few parts of him that had been vunerable to her frantic hands, and he had rapidly caught both her wrists in his hand, twisting her so her back was touching his chest. He had rammed her up against the wall, her arms trapped between them.

His teaching robes by then had been hanging off his arms and he quickly shrugged then off, keeping Hermione's hands pinned with one, then the other of his own. They had fallen to the floor with a soft sound and pooled around his feet until he kicked them away. Hermione had caught him with her nails, once on his face, and again just under his chin and partway down his neck.

Holding her again with one hand and the weight of his body, he had touched his face delicately, finding a few spots of blood.

"You little bitch," he had hissed into her ear, slamming her hard against the wall again. "How dare you touch me."

"How dare I touch you…? How dare I…? Hermione had spluttered, before throwing her head back against his shoulder and laughing maniacally, the horror of the situation she had found herself in pushing her beyond sense. "You bastard," she had screeched "He trusted you! Dumbledore trusted you, he told us all to trust you, that you had changed. And now look how many people have died. You killed him! He trusted you and you looked him in the eyes and killed him. I believed in you too. After third year, I kept telling them to listen to Dumbledore, how you never would have thrown yourself in front of the were-wolf to protect us if you weren't a decent person. What fools we were. You…you bastard." Her indignant rant petering out she had tried to wriggle out of his grasp again but he held tight and pushed her back against the wall.

"So you said already", he had jeered. "Call yourself a top student, you can't even muster the vocabulary to think of another foul name to call me." Pulling his wand out before she had a chance to respond, he had pointed it at her throat and whispered, "Silencio."

Pushing his leg in between hers and reaching down between their bodies he had whispered, "See what happens to little mudbloods who know nothing and understand even less when they don't have a book to instruct them."

Hermione opened her eyes again. The tears had stopped and dried upon her face, but she just couldn't bear to think about what had happened next. The memories still felt hazy and she struggled to understand how she could feel so calm and detached at the thought of what he had done to her. Intellectually she knew what happened to the victims of rape, the shame and disgust they felt at themselves, the feelings of guilt and self-blame they carried for long after, but she felt almost serene now she had relived the events of the prior day.

Maybe it's shock, a little voice whispered. Maybe you'll run screaming down the hall later when it all hits you. Or maybe you're just too sensible to truly believe it's your fault. "Maybe both", she whispered. She had always been good at compartmentalising her life, drawing up list after list, never letting even the crazy events since she had started at Hogwarts get in the way of her studying. It's not my fault, she thought again. It's Voldemort's. And his. And Dumbeldore's for putting his trust in the wrong person.

"Dammit! Just get on with it. You've got plenty of time for thinking later", she told herself. "I want a bath before he returns. And you haven't even started any of your cleaning," she admonished herself. Hermione pulled herself up onto the bed, and ran a hand over her hair. The plait which she had weave many hours ago was horribly messy, probably only holding about half of her hair still in the elastic. She unwound it quickly and pulled her fingers through the tangles, trying to get rid of as many as she could so she could pull it back into the neatest plait possible without a brush and large amounts of frizz-ease.

The simple act of redoing her hair had gone a long way towards settling her nerves. She hauled herself back onto her feet, picked up the bucket and the items that had spilled out when she had dropped it earlier, and left the room.

* * *

 

Hermione firmly twisted the handle of the door that led to Snape's bedroom. The room that appeared before her surprised her and at the same time was much as she expected it to be. It differed from the rest of his chambers expect his library in that it was comfortable and warm. A large four poster bed with thick drapes, silk sheets and luxurious blankets sat with the headboard resting against the wall on her left. Antique nightstands stood either side, simple but well-made in dark wood and very elegant. A patterned rug lay across the polished wooden floorboards, covering most of the room, but falling short of each wall by about 2 feet. It looked old, but seemed barely worn, and if it was not a real Persian rug, it was a very good imitation.

The rest of the furniture was also antique, and upon closer inspection turned out to be of a set with the nightstands. A large wardrobe stretched most of the way along the far wall, while a dressing table, empty except for 2 tall lit candles in their holders at either end, stood to her left along the wall near the door. A wooden chair with arms and a cushioned seat and back was pushed under it. She noticed the two nightstands were also empty except for a candlestick each. Most of the light came from a large candelabra hanging from the centre of the high ceiling.

The colour of the walls and the furnishings was the main surprise. Hemione had expected to see the green and gold of Slytherin alongside the black that she had known she would find. The various fabrics around the room were predominantly black, though of varying textures. But the walls were a light biscuit colour, almost golden where the candlelight reflected off them. There was gold too in the carpet, as well as a hint of a royal blue picked out here and there in the pattern. The bed, she was almost relieved to see, was decked out only in black. She almost chuckled at the thought of Snape sleeping under gold and red sheets. In many ways the man could be so completely predictable. Whereas at other times he takes everyone by surprise.

Looking around the room she frowned. There didn't seem to be anything of a personal nature anywhere. The furniture was luxurious and probably cost more Galleons than she could imagine, but the room was stripped bare of anything that would hint at the personality behind the man's cold exterior. Maybe he just doesn't have one, she thought snarkily. There was a fireplace opposite the bed but it was unlit, and while the bedroom wasn't as chilly as the rest of the apartment, she was shoeless and only wearing a thin dress.

She stepped up to the bed and straightened the blankets, running her hands over the fabric and wishing that she could just crawl under the sheets for just a few minutes until her extremities lost the biting feeling that had existed in them since waking up that morning. The thought of sneaking into Snape's bed for any reason made her feel a bit ill again. It was a rather lovely bed though, the sort of bed she imagined many teenage girls would fantasise their first time to be in, after a beautiful, romantic evening with the man of their dreams. Despite never really having dwelt too much on the subject herself, Hermione would never have imagined that her first time would take place pressed up against a wall by a man she hated with her whole heart. It hurt a lot less than I expected, she pondered. The information see had seen on the subject had led her to believe that there would be a lot of pain the first time. How can I still feel so calm about what he did?

Feeling a current of slightly warmer air at her back, she turned to the fireplace. There was a faint warmth coming from the small heap of embers. She decided to take advantage of it and start by cleaning the fireplace.

She grabbed the brush and shovel that were standing on one side of the hearth and brushed up all the flakes of ash that the fire had spat out the night before. She finished and stood to wipe down the mantelpiece, keeping her feet on the hearth as close to the remains of the fire as she could, wriggling her toes in the heat.

With dismay she realised her hands were streaked with soot and it had begun the rub off of the cloth she was using. She needed to wash them before she could continue. Turning, she spotted two previously unnoticed doorways on the far side of the bed. Deciding that one of them was likely to be a bathroom, she pushed open the closest one, pulling up short as she stepped inside.

She was stood in a large potions lab, far bigger than the space between the doorways should allow. It was windowless, as were the rest of the rooms she had found herself in so far. Two long wooden benches sat parallel to each other, taking up the centre of the room. Upon them were several full cauldrons with the contents placed under stasis spells. Hermione peered into each one. She couldn't smell the fumes because of the spells, but they were all slightly different shades of the same colour and she wondered if they were not perhaps varieties of the same potion. It looked like Snape was doing some research and trying to create something new.

Spotting the cupboards covering the far wall her curiosity got the better of her and she decided to have a quick look as she was interested to see what rare ingredients Snape had stored away. They were locked, and disappointed Hermione turned away, only for her eyes to fall upon a pile of sheets sitting on the end of the bench by the closest cauldron. Before she had really thought about what she was doing she reached for them, intrigued at the thought of reading anything written by such a talented potions master. Maybe they would give her a clue as to the nature of the potions under stasis.

Scanning the page quickly, she frowned. It made no sense. The words were utter nonsense. She rubbed her temple absentmindedly at the small ache there, and continued to try and decipher the words. She didn't notice the pain building behind her eyes until her vision started to go fuzzy and the words began to swim on the page. Shit! He'd warned her against reading any of his papers. Sometimes you're too bloody curious for your own good, she scolded herself.

Dropping the sheets messily back on to the surface of the bench she moved to leave. The sudden movement made her head spin even worse and she put up her hands in front of her, felling her way along the bench to where she remembered the door to be. As she staggered through the doorway she went headfirst into the solid figure that had appeared there abruptly. She stepped back and almost fell down but hands grabbed her shoulders, gripping tightly, holding her upright.

"How did you get in here?" He barked at her, shaking her hard. "Tell me, quick! How did you get through the wards?" He was almost frantic in his desire to understand. She peered up at him, grey flecks clouding her vision, and opened her mouth to reply.

She struggled to speak, the agony in her head almost drowning out all sense of where she was. "I…. I….just…. the door…. opened it." The lights seemed to be getting dimmer and she closed her eyes, not seeing Snape's face blanch whiter than usual at her words, his eyes jerking up to look at the potions with a worried frown.

Satisfied that his work seemed untouched he looked back down at the limp young woman in his arms. "Foolish girl," he spat, although it seemed to lack his usual venom. "I wondered how long it would take you to stick your nose into something you shouldn't. You've actually managed to disappoint the low expectations I had. I stupidly assumed you would managed to keep out of trouble for at least two hours."

Hermione gave no answer, but moaned and swayed on her feet, despite his hold on her. Snape stared down impassively at her for a moment, before seeming to come to a decision, and let her go. She managed to stay up for a few seconds before slumping to the floor. He smirked down at her as she pressed her hands to her head. She opened her eyes one last time to see him step over her before the pain overcame her and she passed out.

* * *

When Hermione awoke she was back in her bed, the pain in her head a dull memory. Her limbs were stiff and cold, the lumpy mattress leaving her with an aching back and sore neck. She rolled over, wandering what time it was, but the windowless room gave her no clue. She climbed slowly out of bed, winced as her bare feet touched the chilled floorboards and pulled them back up under her to sit crossed legged.

Touching her forehead tenderly she tried to recall the last few minutes before everything had gone blank, but it was difficult to remember much more than the sight of his furious face so close above hers and his snarling lips. She shuddered at the thought. I wonder how I got into my bed. Snape had probably floated her there with a spell and just dumped her. How long have I been here? She decided to get up and find out.

However, when she tried to turn the handle, she found the door locked. Feeling trapped and claustrophobic she hammered against the thick wood, willing to brave Snape's displeasure as long as she could escape her dark room. The door never opened and eventually she gave up, turning her back to it and sliding down to the floor. Resting her head in her hands and her elbows on her knees she began to sob quietly, praying for this all to be over, and to be free of this place, and him.

.

.

.

.

Recap: Hermione thinks about what happened to her after waking up at Hogwarts. Snape had entered her room and fought with her before raping her. She is upset at the recollection, but also surprised that she has taken it as calmly as she has.  
She starts to clean Snape's bedroom, and enters his personal labratory. Trying to read some papers on the desk she suddenly gets a blinding headache and faints as Snape comes racing in. She wakes up later to find herself locked in her won room.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Hope you enjoy the next chapter. As I've said before, any comments are apprectiated.

* * *

Hermione only woke up when the door slammed against her back, sending her flying. She looked up blearily at his stern countenance. Pulling a potion bottle out of his robes he bent over her and pulled her head back with a tug on her hair.

"You will drink this. Open your mouth"

Clamping her jaw shut Hermione shook her head as much as his fingers in her hair would allow her to.

"You have no choice in this, girl. Do it now or do it under the Imperius curse. I do not care which."

She obviously had no choice in the matter. Deciding that if he wanted her dead or to hurt her he could do it with or without the potion, and there was little point in resisting him. She opened her mouth slowly, and he gently poured the potion inside. It tasted of very little, and she didn't recognise the flavour at all. Snape watched her carefully as she swallowed and pulled her mouth back open to make sure it was gone. He stood up.

Hermione waited for the potions to take effect, but nothing seemed to happen. "What… what did you give me?" Hermione asked falteringly, knowing he didn't want to be questioned.

However Snape didn't answer her, but instead sneered, "You managed to get no work done, and you have now slept the day away. You will be ready in the morning as instructed." He spun round to leave, his robes flying out in the dramatic manner she'd always associated with him.

"But, please sir. How am I to know what time it is? Hermione begged, still prone on the floor.

Snape barely turned, but pointed his wand over his shoulder at the ceiling and muttered under his breath. "The room is now charmed and the light will come on in time for you to wake. Do not make me wait, or it will be the worse for you." He pulled the door shut firmly behind him, and as it slammed closed, the light turned off, leaving Hermione in the pitch black.

She swore under her breath, feeling her way to the bed. She climbed into it, pulling her dress off over her head and laying it over the top of her blanket, unwilling to sleep in the only piece of clothing she had. Unfortunately, after her long sleep and the nap she had just taken, she wasn't tired at all. Hermione lay in her hard bed for hours, quietly trying to come up with an escape plan, but beyond rushing out the door to the study and hoping the doors on the way out were unlocked and unguarded, she couldn't think of anything. The study door was sure to be warded anyway, and she couldn't get far without her wand, let alone hope to find Harry and Ron again. _Harry and Ron_. Hermione missed them terribly. Were they missing her? She frowned into the darkness. _Why had Voldemort not been able to find what he was looking for in her mind?_ She was missing a large chunk of memories. There was nothing since apparating away from the Burrow during the wedding, and even before that there were gaps that her thoughts seemed to slide around. There was something the three of them were meant to be doing, she recalled, but there was no clue as to what that something was. Eventually, wearied by all her introspection, she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

The next afternoon found Hermione on her hands and knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor. She had been cleaning non-stop since after making Snape's breakfast, and had gained yet more appreciation for the house-elves that kept the castle in such good condition. _Hang on… **Dobby**!_ _Maybe he could help me get out._ "Dobby!" she whispered. Nothing happened. "Dobby," she repeated, a little louder.

"He won't come," taunted a voice behind her. "The elves are all under orders to not enter my rooms for any reason. He won't come, not even for you. You can't escape that way I'm afraid."

Hermione jumped at hearing him, and coloured at how easily he had read her intentions. Snape smirked at her discomfort.

"Supper should be ready in an hour. I will be in my library," and with a flourish of his robes, he was gone.

"Bloody hell" grumbled Hermione. "I've not stopped all day." Looking at her dress she realised for the first time just how filthy she was. She was going to have to cook in this state, and there was no time for her to do more than wash her arms and hands. She pushed aside the bucket of tepid water, put down the cloth and stood up, wincing at the pain in her side. She'd have to finish the floor later and get started on the food now. It wasn't worth getting in trouble again, just over a late meal.

Turning on the tap and grabbing the soap she began to scrub, taking care to go gently across the new and tender bruises on her wrists and arms. _God, I hate him_ , she thought as her fingers ran over the swollen flesh of a particularly bad one. _I really need to get out of her_ e, she thought for the hundredth time that day. _I don't know how long I can stand this._

She finished washing herself, and went to the pantry and pulled out some food. She needed a tray for the meat and a pan to boil the potatoes in, so she crossed the kitchen to look for them in the cupboards. She found the pan, but only spotted a pile of trays on a high shelf after a few minutes of searching.

Hermione pulled a stool across and climbed up. Reaching up to grab the tray she overstretched, pulling her side even more, and knocking the whole pile of trays with her flailing hands as she sought for something solid to grab on to. The trays hit the floor with a resounding crash. She gripped on tight to the cupboard and held her breath as she waiting for Snape to come storming through the door. He never came, and she eventually climbed down from the stool.

Lifting her dress she peered down at her side. It was much worse than she had realised. A bruise the side of her palm rested just below the ribcage on her right side, red and throbbing. She touched it in wonder, unsure of how she had managed to work all day without noticing how bad it was. She had to think for a minute before she could recall exactly what had happened.

* * *

Writhing on the floor of the library under the Cruciatus curse, she had slammed her side into the corner of the desk. The bruises on her arms, wrists and knees were from hitting the floor repeatedly as she had convulsed in pain. The look in Snape's eyes as he loomed above her had been indecipherable as he pointed at his wand at her and given her several short bursts of the curse as he detailed her crimes. She wasn't sure how many she had taken before she had lost consciousness.

Later, she had woken up, still stretched out on the floorboards as he had sat, uncaring, in his chair with a book. His eyes had met hers as she rose shakily onto her feet, twitching from the small aftershocks that ran through her. He had only grimaced before telling her mercilessly to get on with making his breakfast.

* * *

After a few moments, Hermione sighed with relief. The burning ache was beginning to fade again to a dull throb. I guess it's probably looks worse than it really is. I'll just have to watch that I don't over-do it too much. She pulled the dress back down over her legs and went to pick up the trays and rinse them, the remembrance of the agony of the Cruciatus curse tearing through her body fading from her mind as quickly as the pain in her side was ebbing.

Less than an hour later, Hermione was knocking on the door to the library.

"Enter." She opened the door. "On my desk and be quick about it."

As she came in, Snape was lounging in an armchair by the cracking fire, concentrating on reading a book, the cover of which Hermione could not make out, except to note that it looked old. Snape stood up, setting the book down in the chair he had just vacated. Hermione walked over to the desk, placing the tray in front of the chair, but as she reached across to put it down, her bruise twinged sharply and she gasped.

"What did you do?" Snape took her firmly by the wrists, pulling her round to face him. Hermione looked up at him blankly, unwilling to show him any weakness. He shook her gently. "Tell me now!" She bit her lip, and tried not to squirm in discomfort. The ache in her side was getting worse, but she still didn't want to let him see. Snape looked down at her body, comprehension dawning in his eyes.

"Let me see." He reached down, but she wriggled out of his grasp and stepped away from him, holding her dress down against her legs firmly.

"Let me see." He said again. "Or I will vanish your dress and you will not get another one."

Hermione's hands fisted in the coarse fabric. She felt revolted by the thought of his eyes on her body, but yet again he had left her little choice. She unclenched her hands and turned her head to the side so she didn't have to watch him.

As she felt her dress lift she closed her eyes and a blush spread over her cheeks. There was a cold touch on her side and she breathed in sharply and looked down at him. She was surprised to see him on one knee in front of her. He was ignoring everything besides the bruise as he touched it again tenderly. High spots of colour flared brighter on her cheeks. She way as well be an injured piece of livestock, the way he was regarding her. She couldn't decide whether he was more relieved at him ignoring her exposed body, or hurt that he clearly didn't find her appealing. _What is wrong with you? Do you really want him looking at you like that?_

He pulled down her dress and stood up. "There is no lasting damage, there will be no excuse for shirking your duties tomorrow. Have you finished your tasks for today?"

"No, sir. I haven't quite finished the kitchen."

"That is not the correct way to address me."

She hung her head, "Yes, Master." The words tasted bitter in her mouth.

Snape nodded, not caring that she so obviously despised having to call him that. He pushed a potion that was sitting on his desk towards her. "Drink," he said.

Hermione eyed him warily, but again he seemed not to notice her. She reached for the potion and took a sniff. It seemed to be the same thing he had given her the night before. There had been no effect she could make out, so with a resigned shrug she downed it.

"Sir… Master, can I ask…?

"No you may not." Snape turned away from her, satisfied that she had drunk the potion. "You may return to the kitchen and finish. Make sure you eat quickly." He sat down at his table and started to eat himself. "You will not appear in such a dirty state again, your dress is filthy. You have one hour to finish your work, eat, and wash your dress before returning to your room." Hermione didn't move, waiting for a direct dismissal. Snape looked up from him plate. "Go," he snarled.

She moved out of the room quickly, and turned to pull the door close behind her. Just before it shut, she got a glimpse of Snape dropping his cutlery on his plate and resting his forehead in his hands. He looked old and weary, but Hermione felt no pity for him. _He deserves none._

She ran first to her room to grab the blanket off her bed. She would have to hang her dress in the kitchen by the range overnight if it was to be dry by morning, and she wasn't about to go streaking down the hall. Returning to the kitchen she hurriedly finished off the few pots she hadn't already done, and washed the floor.

She then went to the bathroom and peeled off her dress, turning on the hot tap and used the soap to scrub her dress before rinsing the suds out and wringing it out as best she could. She washed her body down as best she could with her hands and dried herself with one of the thin black towels hanging on the rail. Knowing it would be her last chance before morning she went to the toilet and then ran back to the kitchen with her blanket wrapped around her, her time almost up.

Her dress was hung over the back of a chair and pushed close to the range. Eyeing the old clock which hung above it she saw that she had one minute left. Unsure whether she should go to her room or wait for Snape to collect her she finally decided on the former. As her door swung open she looked down the corridor to see him exit his library and stop at the sight of her. They stared at each other for a brief second before she walked through her door and shut it, leaning back against the door. A tingle of magic in her fingers told her the door was now locked, and the room went pitch black.

"Dammit!" She stamped her foot in irritation. "He could at least give me a few seconds to get into bed." She walked slowly across the room, feeling the way carefully with her feet. She didn't need another bruise on top of the ones she already had.

Finally finding the bed she settled down onto it and pulled the blanket from her shoulders to spread it out over her. At least she wasn't too cold tonight. She curled up and rolled over, glad to finally relax and sleep. As she drifted off, some part of her brain noticed that her bruise had stopped hurting again, but she was too far gone to care. Exhausted, she slept.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

This time, the desk and chairs had been pushed back.

"For trying to escape …"

"Being _filthy_ last night when serving dinner…"

"For making me ask a second time…"

"Because you addressed me incorrectly…again…."

"For trying to ask yet _another_ irritating question…"

He paused.

"Because I… because… I wish it," he hissed.

He turned and stared into the fire while he waited for her cries to die away. The glow from the flames flickered across the lines of his hard face as he watched them impassively. His face was as still and motionless as the mask he sometimes wore, but there was a strange tension in the way he held himself and his hands were curled into tight fists.

Eventually Hermione stilled, and the sobs that had filled the room faded, leaving only the crackle of the fire. Snape slowly turned and, with his wand, repositioned the furniture as it had been before.

Hermione was left on the floor by the desk, all but ignored as Snape opened a draw, pulled out some papers and settled down in the chair to read. Still breathing heavily, she rolled over sluggishly to put her back to him, facing the fire instead, grimacing as she twisted and stretched muscles that were still trembling from the pain. Silently she lay and watched the fire as Snape had moments before, her face as expressionless as his had been, except for the tears that rolled noiselessly across her face and dripped steadily onto the floorboards below her. They mixed with the small of pool of blood that had formed from the trickle that was leaking out of the corner of her mouth.

How long she lay there she did not know, but at some point the tears stopped and her breathing calmed. Snape did nothing but occasionally turn a page and shift slightly in his seat, his eyes carefully averted from the figure crumpled up close to him.

It might have been an hour later, possibly more when Snape finally stood. Hermione, who by this time was beginning to drift into sleep, had only a moments warning before his arms slid under her. He rose again with her in his arms, one below her knees and the other under her arms. She offered no resistance, except to turn her head away from him. He carried her to the chair by the fire, and lowered himself into it with her cradled in his lap.

She continued to look away from him and into the fire as he studied her intently from the side. His gentle behaviour was confusing, and she wasn't sure what new game he was playing with her now. Snape waited patiently until she could ignore him no more, and turned her face towards him questioningly, careful not to look directly at his eyes.

He lifted his hand towards her cheek. She flinched, but Snape paid her no attention and carefully wiped away the last remains of her tears. She flicked her eyes up towards him in astonishment at his tender touch, but he was now tracing his finger gently across her other cheek, and did not see.

Snape reached down into a small pocket on his breast, and opening the single button, he pulled out a black silk handkerchief. He used it to dab at the line of blood that had dried at the corner of her mouth. She shifted slightly on his lap, uncomfortable with the intensity of his attention. Finally noticing her, Snape hooked his finger under her chin and lifted it towards his face. She tensed, thinking he was going to kiss her, and finally looked into his unfathomable eyes.

He held her eyes with his for a moment, then breathed, "Legilimens."

They fell into her mind together. At first they drifted slowly through her recent memories. He watched the torture he had just inflicted on her through her own eyes, felt her anguish. She was prodded towards the remembrance of him lifting up her dress to inspect her side, and the shame she had felt at his cold eyes on her naked skin.

She saw again her first punishment, the long hard hours of work, shivering in the dark, her quiet prayers and plans for release from her captivity. Her terror, mortification and degradation he experienced, and still he searched, but for what she did not know.

He pulled back for a moment, and she suddenly felt something from him, a warm thrum of satisfaction. She tried to disentangle herself from him, but he was too strong and wouldn't let her go. He wanted something else now, she could sense. He nudged memories of Harry into her head, of Ron and the three of them together. He followed the train of her thoughts, trying to push her away from her older memories and searching for the newest ones he could find.

Time and time again he brushed up against the white space where her lost memories should have been. He would move away and try again another way, and yet again he found nothing. Sweat trickled down her back and stood out on her forehead. Her head began to pound and she grew dizzy from the strain. Finally he began to push against the wall, searching for a crack where he could anything that might lead him to Harry. Her efforts to hinder him were useless, he was too proficient a legilimens for her to put up any sort of a fight.

Her vision started to fade, the pressure of him in her head making her delirious, and she swooned. As abruptly as he had entered, he left her, and she reeled from the sudden emptiness inside. Her eyes fluttered shut, her body relaxed against his.

Minutes passed. Eventually Hermione began to come to her senses, and found herself still in Snape's arms. He was watching her carefully. She started to struggle against him, wanting nothing more than to be free of his touch.

He pinned her arms down with his and held her legs still. She soon realised the futility of struggling and stopped, breathing hard. Suddenly, Snape stood up, letting her drop gracelessly to the floor. Hermione looked up at him towering above her with dazed eyes, and he stared back at her with his own implacable ones.

"Get back to work. I have more important things to do than to babysit irritating mudbloods." He dismissed her abruptly, and stepping over her, swiftly left the room.

 

* * *

  


Hermione woke up the next morning with a feeling of dread churning in her stomach. As he had locked her in the previous night, Snape had informed her that he would be attending a meeting at Malfoy manor that evening, and she would be attending also. He had told her she would be questioned again concerning Harry and what he had been doing. _Probably tortured as well._

"I know nothing, you saw that last night, as did Vold… You-know-Who a few days ago. What more could he possibly want from me?"

"Then for your sake you have better hope he believes there is some other reason to keep you alive," he had sneered.

She had muttered softly under her breath then, and he had taken a step towards her, snarling "What was that, you insolent chit?"

"I said I hate you, I hate all of you. I wish you were dead. You were supposed to be on our side!" She exploded with sudden, inexplicable rage. "You disgust me…" she had trailed off, beginning to turn her head away from him with a curl of her lip. The hard smack across her face had not been completely unexpected that time, but it still had knocked her backwards.

She had sagged against the doorframe for support and looked up at him, holding one hand over her reddening cheek while her eyes filled with tears. His eyes had glistened at her with some unknown emotion that he had managed to keep from the rest of his face.

Then, he had grabbed her and hauled her to her feet, pushing her through the doorway, and following her inside. Hermione had been flung on the bed before he had responded.

"Yet again you force me to punish you, stupid girl. Is this what you've been wanting? Have you missed having my undivided attention?"

She had cowered on the bed, knowing what was coming, as he put his hands to the collar of his teaching robe and began to slide it off his shoulders. "You want to be punished, is that it? Do you enjoy it?"

She had cried out in protest at his words, launching herself off the bed and trying to make for the open door. He had grabbed her by the waist, his chest against her back and pushed her up against the wall as she kicked and screamed.

"The more you fight me, the more it will hurt," he had whispered from behind with a strange choked sound to his voice. He had wrenched her back round to face him, and she had finally ceased her struggles to get free, instead just doing her best to keep him as far from her as possible. He pressed her against the wall again and wedged his body against hers. One had drifted to the bottom of her dress, and she tensed, bowing to the inevitable.

But his hand had stopped short of her hem, and his head had turned. He seemed to be listening to something. She had twisted her own head also, straining to hear what had distracted him, but she could hear noting.

She was abruptly thrown sideways onto her bed and he spun and stalked from the room. As he had closed the door behind him, his parting words had been, "We will finish this later." The door had slammed shut and the lights had plunged out.

* * *

Hermione shuddered, thinking back to his last words, and wondering whether he would carry out his threat sometime today. The thought of his hands on her repulsed her, but after spending so much time alone she had begun to crave human contact. She wondered when she would begin to accept his touch without a fight, just to satisfy her longing.

She felt drained and groggy this morning, despite having fallen into a long and deep sleep that night. The emotional turmoil was taking its toll on her, she was starting to look slimmer, and she was afraid that she was becoming used to her captivity, and losing the will to escape.

She had woken up well before the light in the room had begun to brighten so she knew she had a few minutes before Snape came for her. She slowly got ready, pulling her dress over her head and combing her hair back with her fingers as best she could. Five days without a brush had left more than a few knots in her bushy hair that she would never get out, even with a brush.

When she had finished, she went to wait near the door for Snape to come, settling down on her knees in expectation of his entrance. She waited.

A few minutes passed and he hadn't arrived. She shifted slightly, uncomfortable on the floor. When he still had not come ten minutes later she moved stiffly off her knees and stretched her legs out on the floor, but did not get up in case.

Another ten minutes passed, and the ache from sitting on the cold floor drove her to her feet, and she began to pace, stretching out the sore muscles. As time passed she started to worry. _What if something has happened to him? He might be dead! Harry? Has Snape been called away because they've found him? What if Snape never comes back? Will anyone think to look for me here? Why did he run out so fast last night?_ It couldn't be a good sign, she was sure. She had no way whatsoever of telling what was happening outside the walls of her room. _What if no one comes for me?_ Her room seemed to grow smaller and darker, and she ran to the door in terror and began banging.

No one came, and only when her hands were sore from banging and her arms aching did she give up and throw herself on her bed. She was starting to become away of the need to use the bathroom and the empty feeling in her stomach. Please Merlin, let me out of here before I have to go in the corner. She began to pace to try and take her mind off it.

After what felt like days later the door suddenly opened and before she had time to think she flew towards the figure standing there in relief, barely pulling up short before she threw herself into his arms.

He stepped back in shock as she ran at him, then smirked as he realised what she had almost done. She moved back from him, irritated with herself for feeling so pleased that he had returned. I wanted him dead only last night and now I'm glad he's here. Her cheeks flushed slightly at the thought.

The pressure of her bladder reminded her of her needs, and with a quick, "Sorry, I have to…" she pushed past him and ran to the bathroom, almost forgetting to be surprised that he had not tried to stop her.

After relieving herself and gladly freshening herself up with some cold water she went in search of Snape, hoping that he would give her some clue as to where he had been without her having to ask any 'irritating' questions. He was in his library, slumped in his chair with his eyes closed. She came in quietly, her bare feet padding softly across the floor to stand beside his chair.

She had been so concerned with the fact of his return and her own needs that she hadn't taken the time to consider how he looked. He appeared worse than she had ever seen him, his robes partially shredded and hanging in tatters, in places showing strips of skin that were gashed and bloody, although starting to heal. His face was bruised and swollen around his mouth, his forehead furrowed, and he looked fatigued and old.

She studied his face intently, wondering what had happened for him to return in such a state. She reached out to touch a bruise on his temple. A hand suddenly shot out and grabbed her wrist and his eyes opened. His ebony eyes looked into her chestnut ones, and she stood frozen, like a deer trapped in headlights.

Neither moved nor looked away until a log in the fire cracked suddenly, sending a shower of sparks across the heath, the pop jerking both their eyes away from each other's. Hermione looked down to where he held her wrist in a vice-like grip. He had turned his head away and was gazing into the flames. His grip lessened slightly and she went to pull away, but he gently turned her hand over and continued to hold her, his thumb now absentmindedly stroking the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist.

The feeling of it made her feel hot and slightly dizzy, and she wished to pull away, mindful of the previous night when he had seemed tender but had then turned on her and invaded her mind. She waited tensely for his next move.

Eventually he spoke. "What do you want?"

"I… I was worried when you didn't come. I wanted to see if you were ok."

"You are concerned… for me?" He sounded incredulous.

"Well… I… umm…" she trailed off, unsure of how to reply.

"How… touching, but as you can see, I have returned in one piece," he sneered.

"What happened to you?"

"Don't pretend to care. You wished me dead last night, I don't want your false sympathy now."

She tried to pull away. He looked down at their conjoined hands with surprise, as if he had been unaware of what he had been doing. His hand gripped her a moment longer before letting go. She pulled her arm back, holding it tightly against her stomach and using her other hand to cover it as if protecting it.

"You have until five to finish your tasks, the first of which is preparing me a meal. Hermione tried to ignore the rumble of her own stomach at his words. His cold eyes travelled up her body, starting at her legs. "You're dirty again. Make yourself clean, and do something about that dress."

Looking up at the clock she gaped in dismay. There were just under two hours until five, and how was she to cook, clean, wash herself and herself and well as get it dry in that time?

"As long as the kitchen is spotless you may be excused the other rooms until we return. They were left in an acceptable state yesterday." He had followed her gaze to the clock and had obviously guessed her thoughts correctly.

She stood and waited to be dismissed, but instead of letting her get on with her chores he stood up, looming over her, and grabbed her chin with his hand, the touch of his long, cold fingers on his skin making her tremble. "Look at me," he commanded in a smooth, silky voice.

She raised her eyes automatically, unable to refuse as he spoke in that tone, despite guessing what he was about to do. She was not wrong.

He held her eyes with his momentarily before he entered her mind again. This time he only combed through the memories of the time she had just spent waiting for him. He examined her emotions, the confusion she had felt at first, the worry then the frantic fear that had followed, the surge of emotion when he had finally reappeared.

Snape blinked suddenly, breaking the link. He leant back slightly from her and looked away, no longer meeting her eyes. Hermione watched him with a small frown. His emotions were so hard to read, she was so used to seeing nothing but spite and fury on his face. The last few days he had shown her very little besides a blank mask of indifference, but now there was something. If she hadn't have known better, she would have guessed that he looked sad and heavy-hearted. But why? What did he see?

She studied him curiously, but he put his back to her and said woodenly, "Leave me." She paused for a moment, but with another glance at the clock, decided to rush off to do her chores.

* * *

Hermione wriggled uncomfortably in her still damp dress. Despite it having hung by the warm range for the better part of the two hours she'd had, it had not had enough time to dry fully, particularly around the seams. She'd decided to cook a simple pasta dish as she'd needed to be quick. As soon as she had set the pan to boil she had grabbed her blanket and washed the dress and hung it to dry before cleaning herself as best she could. She had served Snape his meal, wrapped in the blanket.

He had showered and changed, his bruises and lacerations now barely visible. She assumed he had used potions and creams to reduce the damage. He had raised an eyebrow at her attire but had said nothing, and she had left him without a word being spoken between them.

She'd returned to the kitchen and served herself a small amount of the same dish. Despite her earlier hunger the anticipation of the upcoming evening had turned her stomach with fear, and she had had to force the little food she had managed down only because she knew she needed to eat. Now she was standing waiting in the library as she'd been instructed, dread coursing through her, as she waited for Snape's return.

He arrived a few minutes before five, dressed in a sleeveless robe that seemed even darker than his usual black teaching one, the long coat underneath with its high neck and rows of buttons was the same cut as he usually wore, but was made of a finer material with a modest amount of silver scrollwork across the chest. Then she spotted the pale mask hanging from one hand and choked.

Hermione had never seen him dressed in his death eater's garb. Her exposure to him over the past week had taken the edge of her dread of him, despite what she had suffered at his hands, but now, Snape seemed far more menacing and formidable than she had ever though him before. He terrified her utterly.

He strode across the room and grabbed her by the shoulders. "We're going, hold on tight," was all the warning she had before they apparated away with a loud crack.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

* * *

They reappeared just outside of a pair of closed huge wrought iron gates. Immediately Snape pulled his wand from where it was concealed in his sleeve and with a quick flourish he pulled Hermione through the gates. As she was led along the path she looked back as the twisted metal reformed behind them.

Snape strode confidently towards the Manor with Hermione quietly at his heels. What she could see of his face was an inscrutable mask, and she wished that she could push away the panic that was beginning to rise in her, and feel as emotionless as he appeared.

"If you wish to get through the night with as little damage to your person as possible, you will remember to act as you been instructed," he intoned with even less expression than normal. "Do only as you are told and refrain from drawing attention to yourself. Do not embarrass me with any ill-thought out displays of bravery or temper. You will suffer the consequences, at the hands of the Dark Lord or another this evening, and at my hands later. _So nice of him to be concerned for my well-being_ , she though, mirroring his own sentiment earlier that evening.

Hermione saw him looking at her with a frown from the corner of his eye. _What now_? He casually waved his wand in her direction and muttered under his breath. She felt a tingle as his spell washed over her but could feel or see no difference. She opened her mouth to question him, but he turned his head to her fully and glared, and she shut her mouth with a click.

As they approached the house the front door swung open silently, opening into a dark foyer, empty except for a few candles flickering from the few sconces attached to the walls. Hermione rolled her eyes. W _hat_ is _it with bad guys and dark places?_

Snape didn't pause, but proceeded straight towards double doors on the left, which again opened by themselves. _Fuck, Hermione, run!_ Behind this door was a room that was obviously the formal dining room of the manor, although from the dark, dismal state of it, she couldn't imagine having many lively dinner parties in there.

A long, wooden antique table ran down the centre of the room, surrounded by chairs. A few of these were occupied by figures also dressed in death-eater robes and masks covering their faces. I wonder why? They weren't all dressed up last time. Looking round cautiously she realised that everyone standing around the room as similarly dressed. The room was very quiet. Despite the small groups of people standing together she couldn't hear more than a few faint whispers of conversation. From the lack of noise and the tense posture of almost everyone she could see, she guessed that someone different from usual was happening tonight, and that if these people were nervous, it could not be a good sign.

Looking up at Snape to gauge his reaction to the mood of the room she realised he had put on his own mask too and was now indistinguishable from the others, except for the small differences in the design and markings on both. She ran her eyes over him, trying to memorise the pattern so she could recognise him at a later time.

He didn't seem to notice her observation of him, instead looking ahead to where the largest group of figures were gathered together. With a flick of his wrist to indicate that she follow him he crossed the room to where they were standing. As they walked, several dark forms turned to watch them, eyes glittering behind their masks.

As they approached the group some of them pulled back to allow the new arrivals to join the small circle. From the way that they nodded at each other in greeting without speaking names Hermione guessed they all knew who the others were. One by one they all swept their eyes over her, and even without the benefit of seeing their expressions she felt that more than one of them were confused at her appearance.

"I see you have seemed to have recovered quickly from your earlier… injuries…" an unrecognisable voice spoke coldly. "Lucky for you the events last night were nothing to do with you. Malfoy and Bellatrix have…"

"Considering the consequences of last night I am surprised you think it wise to discuss the matter," Snape sneered from beside her, his voice altered slightly. "Then again, perhaps not," he said snidely, turning himself away from the speaker and addressing himself to another who stood next to him. "Have there been any confirmed sightings of Potter since?" Hermione gasped quietly at the name, but Snape ignored her.

"None, and none of those who escaped with him. It is believed that…"

As if at some unspoken command the room fell silent and everyone turned their heads towards a pair of double doors at the far end of the room. Immediately they began to move into a semi-circle, facing the doors. Snape grabbed Hermione roughly by her hair and dragged her with him to almost directly opposite the double doors, where he rammed her down onto her knees. Hermione trembled, she could guess who was coming.

The anticipation and nervousness in the room was so thick that Hermione could almost taste it. It wasn't like this last week. Obviously something has happened that he is not happy about. The thought would have made her smile, if it hadn't been for the fact that she was shaking hard with fear and apprehension as they waited silently.

Her eyes were trained on the floor and so she didn't even notice the doors slide open until she heard a soft snake-like hiss of a voice coming from one end of the semi-circle. She squeezed her eyes shut and her hands balled into fists, her arms rigid at her side. She knelt there for some time, the pain in her knees from the hard floor forgotten as she listened intently to make out what was happening across the room, since she dare not raise her eyes to see.

The hissing voice slowly moved around the circle, the eerie sound occasionally punctuate by the soft murmuring of quiet replies from the death-eaters to whom he spoke, and on two occasions the thump of a body on the floor and the appalling screams as they writhed on the floor in response to a furiously spoken curse.

Eventually a pair of bare white feet stopped in front of her. She held her breath and waited. She was about to pass out from lack of air when there was a low chuckle before he moved to speak to Snape next to her.

"Severus, you will be staying with me this evening. I am sorry to deny you your fun tonight, but we have… things… to discuss." Hermione swallowed. She had a horrible feeling those things included her, especially since it appeared there had been an incident with Harry. _Please let them both be ok._

"My Lord," Snape intoned flatly in reply. Voldemort continued around the semi-circle, speaking to each figure in turn, leaving a few more in torment on the floor as he gleefully Crucio'd them.

Finally there was silence, and as the last death-eater struggled back to their feet and re-took their places in the line, Voldemort spoke to the whole gathering for the first time.

"You may rise."

Hermione went to stand up, but a strong hand at her shoulder kept her down, as Snape rose to his feet himself. Hermione dared to lift her eyes enough to view the scene in front of her, although she was careful to keep her head down and not look up far enough to catch anyone's eye.

What she saw surprised her. Behind Voldemort knelt several figures, magically bound and covered in bruises and lacerations, their torn clothes coated in blood. She recognised a few of them, including Lucius and Draco Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestrange. A surge of pleasure course through her at seeing them in such a condition, and she instantly felt appalled at her own feelings.

"Before you all leave on tonight's assignment, I thought I would provide a little entertainment… and a lesson for you all, on what happens to those who… disappoint me." He waved his hand languidly at the pitiful forms behind him. "As I am sure you are aware, a certain person was apprehended last night, and brought here. And yet, despite my implicit instructions in regard to him, there seems to have been some confusion amongst some of my… loyal… followers when carrying out my orders." Most of the figures behind him squirmed uncomfortably, but seemed to be unable or unwilling to speak. "Due to their little… misunderstanding, several other important prisoners as well as the person in question were allowed to escape. This failure on their part will now be severely dealt with.

Hermione couldn't take her eyes off the face of Draco Malfoy, whose eyes were almost bulging out of his head with fear at Voldemort's threat. At her side Snape shifted imperceptibly but she didn't notice. She was struggling to keep a check on the nausea that was sweeping through her at the thought of having to watch Draco and the others being punished.

Voldemort turned to the kneeling death-eaters behind him, a malicious gleam in his eyes. "Who would like to assist me in teaching these…simpletons how to follow orders?" Before anyone could reply he spoke again. "Ahh, but tonight we have a guest in our midst. Surely we should honour her with the chance to join in the entertainment. Severus, bring her forward."

Snape grabbed Hermione by the arm and dragged her forward, barely giving her the chance to find her feet. She was shoved forward towards Voldemort and fell at his feet, spread out on the floor. There were muffled laughs from around the room, and she lay quite still, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her, instead of her being forced to face whatever Voldemort planned.

He stepped towards her, pushing her head with his foot so her face was turned towards her. "I see many of you have not recognised our little mudblood, thanks to Severus' clever little masking charm. Here…" He waved his hand over her and she felt the tingle of the charm lifting. The death-eaters who could make out her face murmured quietly.

"We have the honour of receiving one of Harry Potter's closest friends to our little gathering this evening. I'm sure she is as excited to be here as we are to see her. On your feet…"he pushed her head again with his foot, and she scrambled to her feet, not daring to disobey him.

Voldemort reached into his robe, and slowly pulled out a wand… her wand she realised with a jolt. She bit her lip, wishing to be able to hold it again in her hand, but at the same time terrified as to what would be required of her. He slowly twirled her wand in his fingers, smirking at her as he saw the longing on her face.

Severus, if you will assist me. I assume you know what I require of you."

"I believe so, my Lord," he replied from immediately behind Hermione.

Voldemort turned back to Hermione, who was clutching her dress tightly in her hands to stop herself from grabbing her wand. With a small bow, he held it out and offered it to her. She didn't move, unsure of his intention.

"Take it, you stupid girl," Snape hissed from behind. She tentatively reached out her hand and touched the handle gently. Voldemort just watched her, a hideous grin on his face. She slowly closed her hand around her wand, and he released the other end. Normally she would have been able to feel her power flowing through her and into her wand, ready to use, but the binding was still on her and she could feel nothing.

"Do not be concerned," Voldemort chuckled. "Your binding is a simple thing for me to remove." His hand moved towards her, and she flinched away, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her from moving away from his touch. A cold finger was placed on her forehead, and she shuddered with revulsion at the feeling on his clammy skin.

An icy feeling rolled over her skin, and as it passed she felt something lift away from her, as if releasing a pressure she hadn't realised was there. Her magic swept through her for the first time in a week, and as she basked in the warm rush a dispassionate voice behind her uttered, "Imperio."

Hermione couldn't move. All will to do anything beyond wait to be told what to do drained from her body. Her mind however was screaming frantically, trying to free itself and gain control over herself again.

"Now," sneered Voldemort, let's see what delights we have in store for this pathetic bunch. I think it would be rather amusing to watch our little mudblood here deal with them for us, don't you agree?"

There were snickers from around the room, and murmurs of agreement, but she barely noticed, her eyes locked with those of Draco Malfoy, who was utterly terrified, his mouth moving soundlessly against his magical gag.

"Let's see how proficient our guest is at the Crucio curse, Severus. I believe she may need a little encouragement."

Hermione's mind revolted at the thought, beating against its confines, while a small rational part of her whispered soothingly. _You have to really mean it. It won't work. Look at them, they_ are _pathetic. Do you really hate them enough to be able to do this?_ But she wasn't sure of the answer.

"Who will have the pleasure of going first? Lucius, I think, since he doesn't seem to be able to control what happens in his own house, let alone other important tasks I set for him." He leant over the blonde man. "Your incompetence is fast outweighing any reason I may have to keep you alive. I would suggest this be the last time you fail me," he hissed menacingly.

Malfoy made no reply, except to nod his head anxiously in acquiescence. Voldemort stood back up, moving back out of the way, and gesturing to Hermione to begin. _I can't do this! I can'! I won't! Please! she pleaded silently._

Snape stepped up softly behind her, laying his hands gently on her shoulders, his taller body pressed up against her back, his left cheek in the hair behind her right ear, his breath tickling the side of her face, She couldn't move, but her mind shuddered in revulsion at the intimate posture.

'Point your wand at Malfoy,' he instructed in a low voice. Her wand moved up as if of its own accord, and despite her desperately trying to stop it, all she could manage was to make her hand tremble slightly.

"Look at him." She obeyed. "Do you hate him? Would you like to hurt him?"

"I... I..." she stuttered, unable to refuse her reply, but genuinely unsure as to what she felt.

"He insulted you, your muggle parents, and your friends the first time you met him. Don't you hate him for that? How many people got hurt, including yourself and your friends when the Chamber of Secrets was opened by the Weasely girl? Whose fault was that? Are you not angry with him for manipulating you all and putting you in danger. Can you imagine how he laughed as he thought of all the mudbloods who would be killed by the basilisk?" His right hand slowly moved down off her shoulder, fingers sweeping down the side of her arm to her waist.

"Feel your anger and hate. Don't try to hold it in, you know he deserves what is coming to him. You know you want to hurt him for what he's done." The hand on her left shoulder now moved towards the front of her neck, trailing along the line of her collarbone.

With dismay, Hermione felt her body responding to his soft words, anger now starting to warm her insides. She wanted to run, but she wasn't sure, even without the Imperio, if she would have been able to pull herself away from the voice resonating through her. Her body's objection to the feel on his hands was also starting to fade, and Hermione's thoughts were becoming hazy. He began to stroke his fingers across the delicate skin in the hollow of her throat.

His nose nuzzled softy against her ear and his right hand slipped further and her waist, pressing her tighter to him. His robes flowed around her body, encasing her dark folds of material as he purred silkily in her ear.

"And what of Draco, constantly laughing at you for you heritage and your looks, insulting your intellect? Nasty and abusive, even towards his own friends. Who taught him to treat others this way, who educated him to despise muggle-borns? His father, whispering foul ideas into his head from the moment he was born, training him to believe himself better than others. You know you hate him for bringing up his son in such a way that he thought it acceptable to treat you the way he has.

"And what about the incident in the Department of Mysteries? You and your friends could have died so easily that day. He was there, he tried to curse you and kill you… and your friends. Sirius Black died that day. You hate him for that too…. Wouldn't it be better if Malfoy was dead, so that he cannot hurt anyone else?"

Snape's left hand drifted slowly lower, slipping under the neckline of her dress to brush his fingers back and forth across the top of her breasts. Heat continued to build in her at his words, and, the corner of her mind that was still rational realised, at the touch of his skin against hers too.

"Think of all the people he has killed over two long decades, all those he's tortured… and raped. All those muggles… Can you imagine what he would do to your parents? How he would fuck your mother as he tormented her, finally giving her the mercy she begged for with a slow knife across her throat. How he would laugh as he forced you father to watch. You're furious at the though, let your rage consume him…. He deserves punishment, and you can give it to him. Let your anger grow."

And she did, her body burning with the intensity of her fury at the man who had been the cause of so much pain to so many people, as Snape poured words into her consciousness, alternately crooning, berating and hissing intensely.

Snape continued, his rich baritone sending a shiver of desire through her body, heating her further. She was losing her grip on her own mind, unable to tell the difference between the heat of anger, and that of lust. She could barely think at all, her reason lost as the response of her body clouded her head.

"You remember how he had you chained to the wall in the dungeon? How he stripped you bare and leered at your body? How dirty he made you feel? He would have been more than happy to stick his cock in you that night. Who knows what he would have done to you if I had not taken you away. How many young women have been destroyed by his sick…lusts?

Snape's fingers drifted lower, ghosting across her left breast and caressing her nipple gently. Pleasure shot through her, clearing her mind slightly for a split second, and disgustedly she realised that her body was responding to his touch, that it wanted more. Her nipples were hard, her body arching back into him instinctively, without either his or her command. The shame she felt at her body's reaction was swallowed as the haze dropped back over her, leaving only the white-hot fury and desire again.

"You want to hurt him, don't you, teach him a lesson he won't forget, for daring to touch you in such a way, for the pain and agony he's caused you. Take revenge for all those defenceless women he's raped and killed." She was now completely unaware of anything else beyond _his_ voice and the scared face of Lucius Malfoy. "You want to give him the pain he's given to others don't you?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"You want to make him suffer, as he made others suffer?"

"Yes."

"How do you feel about him?"

"I _hate_ him," she spat.

"What do you want to do to him?"

"I want to hurt him."

"Then _Crucio_ him…"

A blinding rage overwhelmed her. There was nothing else in the world besides the man cowering in front of her. Even Snape's presence behind her and his touch on her skin was forgotten as she concentrated all her anger and whispered…

"Crucio…"

Light flew out the end of her wand, half blinding her. It hit Malfoy with such force that he flew up in the air and slammed into the wall behind, narrowly missing another death-eater. Malfoy was pinned against the wall with the stream of magic pouring out of her wand. He was writing in pain, clawing at himself and the wall behind him, leaving gouges in his own skin and blood stains on the walls.

There was a slight movement to Hermione's left that she barely noticed, and suddenly his silent screams became audible, ripping through the room.

At first she didn't notice, the pounding of her heart, and the rushing of blood in her ears deafening her. How long she stood there flaying him with her curse she did not know, but she slowly became aware of the room around her, Voldemort cackling happily at her side, the other disgraced death-eaters shrinking away from her. She realised that Snape had stepped back from her, no longer running his fingers over her skin. Her anger ebbed and began to cool.

_Oh God, What have I done?_ Her mind screamed, breaking the hypnosis that Snape's words had wrought. The curse stuttered and failed, and as her anger dissipated her body swayed, even the Imperius still upon her unable to keep her upright. She crumbled to the floor, the loss of energy and power leaving her drained and weak.

Voldemort threw back his head and laughed manically as Malfoy's body slid brokenly to the ground, twitching slightly. "It seems our little mudblood has more power than we gave her credit for. Are you sure of her blood status, Severus? It would be a shame to let such a natural talent go to waste."

"I don't believe we have been mistaken in her parentage, my Lord, although I would be happy to investigate to see if she has any magical ancestry."

"Let me know what you find, Severus. She could be…useful."

"My Lord."

From her position on the floor Hermione could see both dark wizards looming over her, one still sporting his gleeful smile, the other frowning down at her, his long dark hair hanging down like curtains around his face as he watched her.

"See to your pet, Severus. It seems she will not be capable of a repeat performance and I haven't finished with her yet this evening." Voldemort bent down, pressing a long finger to her forehead again, and she screamed as her skin tightened, her magic bound again. It had been the only thing keeping her from falling unconscious, her body utterly spent, and as it was torn from her she fell into blackness.

The last thing she saw as her eyes closed was _his_ concerned face above hers, his lips moving, but she heard nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Discaimer: See chapter 1

As always, reviews are apprectiated.

* * *

She woke with a gasp, sitting straight up and causing her head to spin wildly. As the room around her stopped moving she realised that she had been left where she had fallen, although Snape was nowhere to be seen.

Looking over to where she had thrown Malfoy she saw that the rest of the bound death-eaters had been tortured while she had been unconscious. Some were moving slowly, their bodies covered in bruises and cuts. Pools of blood surrounded them on the floor. Others, none of whom she recognised, were lying still, their eyes staring blankly, limbs contorted at awkward angles.

Voldemort was addressing the other death-eaters. Just as Hermione tuned in to what he was saying he finished, and the death-eaters began to move silently out of the room, leaving her alone with him, except for those sprawled out on the floor near her.

He turned slowly towards her, a cruel smile lighting up him face as he saw see had woken. He approached her, stepping silently. She knew she should feel scared, but she was still too exhausted to care. _What more could be done to me that hasn't been done already?_ "So glad to see you back with us," he leered. "That was rather an excellent show you put on for us. I don't believe many of my loyal followers have seen such an effective Crucius, except from myself of course, for rather a long time. I believe you left some of them a little in awe of you, my dear. You seem to have left a lasting impression." His eyes slid to the bodies behind her. "Not least on Lucius, of course…" He called softly, "Lucius, attend me…"

A figure behind her got slowly to its feet and shuffled forwards towards them. Looking around at the rest of the death-eaters Hermione realised that the only bodies still prostrate on the floor were dead, and all those still alive were back on their knees, still shaking and twisting their faces in pain.

Malfoy stopped and cowered before Voldemort, his once handsome face gaunt and careworn. Obviously things had not been going well for him for some time.

"Lucius, see to it this filth is removed while I attend to our little…guest." Voldemort gestured to the bodies lying around on the floor. "Count yourself lucky you are not being taken out with them… this time." Lucius just bowed his head.

Voldemort walked past Hermione, who was still laid out on the floor and approached the kneeling Bellatrix Lestrange. He pushed his wand under her chin, forcing her to look up at him, with a wild look in her eyes. _She almost looks like she enjoyed being punished_ , Hermione thought.

"You too, Bella, should also be very grateful to still be alive after your incompetent handing of the boy. I have come to expect such things from Lucius, but I had hoped for better from you. How I would so hate to lose you. It would be unfortunate if you made another mistake." By now Bella's eyes were wide and she was whimpering, her teeth chewing on her bottom lip.

Voldemort straightened. "You may leave me," he said dismissively, turning back to Hermione, who had recovered enough by now to be paralyzed with fear as he slithered towards her, an ugly smile on his face. "Well, my dear," he said insincerely, "I think it's time for us to have another look in that head of yours, and see if we can find anything concerning Harry Potter. And of course, I'm looking forward to finding out how you've enjoyed yourself with Severus this past week."

Hermione shook as he reached down to her with a long, pale hand and pulled her up with the slightest pressure under her chin. She climbed to her feet, making sure to keep her eyes lowered, away from his snake-like face. He ran a clammy finger down her check, chucking as she shuddered, forcing herself not to flinch away from him.

"I will be pleased if Severus discovers any magical ancestry for you. I will enjoy turning you, although I don't think you would agree with me. Of course, if there is nothing for him to find, you won't last long once your usefulness has run out. I understand Harry and his blood-traitor friend were more than surprised to find out we still had you as our guest. I believe they thought you had escaped already, since you were not here when they popped in for a visit last night."

His words only confirmed what she had been suspecting, that Harry and Ron had been brought to the Manor and had somehow escaped. _No wonder he is furious. Is that why Snape came back in the state he did last night? ...I hope the boys are ok._

Voldemort had been watching her face carefully to see if she betrayed anything at this information, and at her thoughtfulness he pushed her head back with his wand so she was looking into his eyes. "Let's see what you have to show me," he crooned, and immediately he ripped into her mind.

At first he seemed content to view the menial tasks she had been forced to do, tasting her irritation ass he completed chores that would have taken a few seconds with a wave of her wand, wasting her talents on mopping and scrubbing. Her longing to bury herself in the stacks of books inhabiting Snape's rooms and frustration at being unable to even read a few words without growing dizzy. Her craving for her wand and her magic.

He caught sight of her watching Snape cautiously as she placed his dinner before him, anxious that he wouldn't be offended by what she'd made and hex her again. He followed that train of thought and she found herself reliving her memories of him, the curses he had cast on her, leering over her as she writhed on the floor in pain. She felt the agony all over again, as Voldemort revelled in the visions he pulled from her. Then he was searching again. She knew what he was looking for now, and tried to slam the door shut on that particular memory, but he found it anyway. He was too strong for her.

He took great delight in watching her terror as she was pushed up against the wall, Snape pressing himself against her, squeezing her breast so hard she cried out in pain. Voldemort enjoyed watching her struggle uselessly against him as he reached down between them to force himself into her. He laughed at her shame and revelled in her feelings of disgust and hate against the man who had done such things to her.

Finally, as her mind was reeling from emotional and physical exhaustion he began to search again. _Harry Potter… Where is Harry Potter? What have you been doing all those months in hiding?_ He whispered softly into her mind. She didn't know, she couldn't find the memory. What was wrong with her? Why could she not remember? He slammed into one memory after another, following paths of thought, constantly looking for a way to uncover what he wanted to know.

Voldemort eventually whipped himself up into a fury when he couldn't find anything, and with a shriek of rage, hurled himself against the wall of nothing in her mind, the void where the memories of the months since last summer should have been. The pain shattered her mind, and everything went white.

Slowly the colour came back into the world, white gradually replaced by grey and black and pain. She became aware of her body again, the ache that permeated every inch of her. She was prostrate on the floor, Voldemort hunched over her clutching his wand to his stomach in pain. He stumbled away, throwing himself into the chair at the top of the table, breathing deeply and watching her as he recovered from the exertion.

She lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, not blinking as the tears crept from her eyes and rolled down her face. Eventually Voldemort stood and walked to the pair of double doors he had entered through, waving them open wordlessly, and he left the room.

Hermione lay where she was, unmoving on the floor in an otherwise deserted room. As time passed she was left in silence on the cold floor he eyes slowly drifted closed. Despite the danger of her surroundings she couldn't fight her exhaustion, and she dozed.

* * *

 

Low voices eventually reached her, and she stirred slightly but did not open her eyes. She was no longer alone, and listening for a moment she knew who was in the room with her, even though she couldn't hear their words. The smooth, rich tones were those of Snape, while the quiet hissing sound could only be Voldemort _. I wish I could hear what they are saying_. Keeping as still as she could and fighting to keep her breathing slow and deep she strained to listen. Soon her wish was answered as they moved closer.

"…obviously som…. ….with her memories…. …Potter or Weasl… ….when she was captured… …by herself." Severus voice was low, but becoming clearer by the second.

"No, Severus. I don't think….. ….very skilled at manipulating the mind…. our attack on the Weasley house and her capture have been removed, as have a few selected memories from last year." They were now close enough for her to hear everything. She prayed for them not to notice she had woken up.

Voldemort continued, "I don't believe either of the three could have done this."

"Potter and Weasley no, but Granger herself has had an irritating knack of doing things she shouldn't be able to. I'd put it down to her habit of being an insufferable know-it-all by reading every book she can get her hands on, but right from the beginning she has had little problem with any charms or spells." He paused, "She's always been more than acceptable at potions-making too."

Voldemort chuckled, "Why, Severus. Such praise for one of your students. I take it that by acceptable you actually mean she comes close to your skill level at the same age."

There was no reply to this.

"She is an interesting one. I wonder, do you think she can be turned? Despite her heritage there is always room for someone of such skill and power among my followers. The level of binding it took to subdue her magic was quite impressive, as was that little display earlier. It would be quite a coup to turn one of Harry's best friends to our side."

"There is always a possibility, my Lord, although I'm sure it would not be a quick or simple process. She has a strong emotional connection to both Potter and Weasley, and it may take a lot to convince her to abandon them and support our cause."

"You seem to have a gift for handling her, Severus. If I recall correctly, you used to take a certain pleasure in converting new recruits."

"It did have… some... benefits," Snape drawled lazily.

"So I recall... Severus…"

"My Lord…?"

There was a thump close to her head, and despite herself, Hermione's eyes flicked open. There was a mass of black robes right in front of her. Daringly she lifted her eyes upwards, to find Voldemort bent over a kneeling Snape, their eyes locked on each other, a hideous grin on the former's face. They were both motionless, not blinking, as minutes passed. Hermione was too frightened to move, sure that if she did they would immediately notice her, even though she could guess that Voldemort was reading Snape's memories.

The first warning she had that they were coming out of it was the twitching of Snape's hand that was dangling by his side, close to her. Hermione quickly squeezed her eyes shut, hoping they would still assume her unconscious.

She began to hear movement in front of her. A rustling of robes and a quieter thump of what may have been hands on the floor.

After a few moments Voldemort spoke, "Rise, Severus." There was another rustle. "It seems you have been taking good care of our little mudblood. I quite enjoyed watching her version of the last week a little earlier. I am quite satisfied, although a little surprised that you have not been enjoying her… delights a little more often. Lucius, amongst a few others, have been asking for a turn with her. If you are not interested, maybe I will let them. Of course, I did offer her to you first as a reward for all your good work, but if you do not want her…."

"My Lord, I have been distrac…."

"Yes… yes… This has been a rather… lively week. I will leave her with you then, for now. You are, after all, the one who know her best. Try to turn her. Your knowledge of her will make you far more likely to succeed than anyone else. And continue to search her mind to see if there is anything that was left that we can use to discover what Harry Potter has been up to."

"My Lord, if you wish me to do such a think then I must ask for time, without interference from Lucius or any other unless I ask. I will need to prepare her carefully, and to be exposed to the wrong…stimulus, may ruin everything."

"You may have your time, but it will not be limitless. You will show me how you are progressing, and I still want her brought here when you come. There will be a room where she can be left securely when you bring her. She will see only me unless you have reason to involve others. If, however, you do not seem to be having any success with her, I will have to find another use for her, or get rid of her."

"Yes, my Lord. I will start immediately."

Voldemort chuckled malevolently. "I have a good idea on how to start you off. Go find Lucius and bring him to me. I want to speak to him in private, then I have a few more things to discuss with you concerning your young charges."

There was another rustle as Snape left, and Hermione heard the door click shut quietly. The tension left her body, but still she stayed still, unsure whether it would be safe to move. Slowly, she became aware of a quiet noise coming stealthily closer. Voldemort… he's still here. It took all her control not to flinch as something cold ran down her cheek. There was a soft chuckle and she felt him move away again. There was another noise as the door on the other side of the room to the one Snape had left through closed as well.

Hermione was now sure she was alone, but she didn't want to risk being caught out at hearing the recent conversation. She lay still for some time, thinking about what she had overheard, before she decided to pretend that she was just coming around. She moved slightly, moaning genuinely at the soreness of her cramped muscles. Rolling on to her back, she stretched again and opened her eyes, sitting up suddenly and pretending to be shocked when she saw where she was. Looking round, she realised she really was alone. _And after my prize-winning performance too._

Hermione slowly stood up, working her muscles to get full feeling back into them after having been on the floor for so long. She looked round the room inquisitively, having time to observe her surroundings fully for the first time. There was very little in the room besides the table and chairs. There was a large unlit fireplace on one side of the room, but the mantelpiece was empty, as were the walls. What a miserable place.

On the wall opposite the fireplace there were a couple of tall, unadorned windows. Hermione walked over to them and curiously looked outside. The room didn't face the gates though which she had entered earlier that evening, although in the dim light she could see that the formal, boxy gardens that had been on either side of the path continued around to this side of the house. She couldn't make out the wall that surrounded the garden, although she knew it was there, as were countless wards preventing her escape, even if she had her wand.

She stood there for a while, looking up at the sky and pondering her life, such as it was. She worried about what Snape was going to do to her to turn her. She would never do it willingly. He would probably be using dark magic. The thought should have terrified her, but strangely she felt calm. She'd been through so much, and she was still here. Hermione wrapped her calmness around her like a shield. She didn't doubt Snape could do some horrid things to her, but she doubted her could actually convince her to betray her own heritage, and turn against Harry and all her friends.

She was so deep in her own thoughts she never heard the door behind her open and close again. She didn't hear the stealthy footsteps approaching her from behind. A hand went suddenly across her mouth and she tried to scream. There was a blow to her side, and she crumpled to the floor. She looked up, dazed, at the leering face of Lucius Malfoy.


	8. Snape

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

I decided to give you a little from Snape's point of view, although it was hard not to give the game away. Please let me know how you liked it.

* * *

Snape stood tensely in the middle of the room that he had been called into after Lucius had left. Carefully he answered the Dark Lord's inquires about the affairs at Hogwarts, and gave no sign of what he thought about the plans his master was outlining for the students.

He was having difficulty in giving his full attention to the instructions he was receiving from the creature pacing slowly in circles around him. Idiot, he thought to himself. You can't afford to make any mistakes. Stay focused. But he still found it hard to keep his thoughts from the girl lying in the other room. He was concerned about leaving her alone for such a length of time, here where there were so many who would be more than happy to get their hands on her.

Where did Lucius go…? Was he told to keep his hands off? I wouldn't trust him not to go looking for her after in revenge for earlier. Snape had also been surprise at the strength of the curse she'd cast at Malfoy. He'd had to step back quickly to avoid getting tangled up in her spell as it surged the moment before she released it. The crackle of magic across her skin had been too strong for him to continue touching her, and it had given him just enough warning to let go in time.

The taste of her power had been quite intoxicating. He had already become slightly aroused by the way she had unconsciously pressed herself against him as he ran his hands over her soft skin. And as much as he hated to admit it, her powerful display had only heightened his lust, his cock quite hard within his robes as he watched the magic pour from her. He had noticed the sly smirk of Bellatrix, knelt to the right of where Lucius had been, as she pointedly run her eyes down his body before looking him knowingly in the eyes.

Snape realised again that his mind had wandered, and Voldemort was waiting impatiently for an answer to his question. Snape cast his mind back over the last few moments to recall what had been asked.

"My Lord, the Carrows have the tendency to be a little too… enthusiastic in their punishments. I am concerned that some of the pure-blood families in particular are not happy with the way their children have been treated. Many of them are still undecided about our cause, and this may be enough to turn them against us, and they may remove their children from school. We will lose a valuable source of new recruits."

Voldemort was silent, and even though he knew he was pushing it, he continued. "My Lord, I believe a more subtle approach would be beneficial. Many who have been subjected to the Carrows… attentions are the source of pity to the others. This will not help to convert any to our cause. I would suggest that…"

"You wish to suggest that we let muggle-lovers and students who disrespect you and others who follow me go unpunished?" Voldemort's voice was low and dangerous.

"No, my Lord." Snape replied with a small wince, remembering the last time he had ventured out into the halls between lessons, and had been tripped with a sneakily fired spell from one of the students. Amycus Carrow had unfortunately been in the corridor at the same time, and because she had not seen exactly who had done it, she had pulled a first-year out of the gathered students and hexed her until the real perpetrator had confessed. Snape had been unable to do more than remind her to leave the boy in a fit state to resume classes the next day, and then he had left him to his fate, sneering at the hate-filled faces glaring in his direction.

"I do not, however, believe that the Cruciatus curse to be appropriate punishment for anything less than such infractions of behaviour than you have just mentioned. Losing homework and oversleeping are just normal symptoms of teenage behaviour, and while they of course need punishing, I believe other methods would be more fitting for such minor infractions. The Cruciatus will lose its effectiveness as a deterrent if used too often, and the Carrow's lack of subtlety in their discipline is achieving nothing except driving more students to support our opponents. The Gryffindors, for example are…"

"Ah yes, I understand you are still having difficulties in keeping them in line." Voldemort hissed. "I am most disappointed, Severus. You will double your efforts to deal with them, and they will receive full punishments, from yourself, when caught. I will take into consideration you other comments when next I speak to Alecto and Amycus."

"Thank you, my Lord." Snape knew better than to push any further, he was already on very shaky ground bringing up the subject."

"And now Severus, I believe it is time for you to return to your little pet and take her home. She will probably be in need of rescuing right about now." He grinned unpleasantly.

Realising after a moment what Voldemort was alluding to, Snape struggled to keep all emotion from his face and bowed slightly, trying not to look as if he was hurrying. He swept out of the room with a swish of his dark robes, thinking furiously. _Lucius_ , he thought. _What was he sent to do?_

Slamming open the double doors to the dining room, he entered in a furious sweep of long, voluminous robes. It was as he had feared. The girl was laid out on the floor, head turned to the side, looking away from him. Her clothes were ripped and shredded, the remnants lying in tatters underneath her. Her naked skin was covered in bites, bruises and several deep scratches.

All fight seemed to have left her as she lay motionless while a long white-haired figure was slowly lowering himself between her legs, one hand cruelly dug into the soft flesh of her breast. Bellatrix was dancing around them, cackling madly and egging Lucius on and taunting Granger viciously. In one hand she held a jewelled dagger that dripped with blood. Barely forcing himself to refrain from blasting the crazy bitch into oblivion he stalked across the room and dragged Lucius off the girl. "What in Merlin's name do you think you are playing at Malfoy? he hissed. Our master said he informed you she is not to be touched by anyone besides myself."

"Is that what he told you?" Lucius laughed. "It's not exactly what he asked of me a short while ago." He looked down to the girl sprawled on the floor. "Your precious little mudblood tastes rather sweet, doesn't she? You do seem to have a thing for them, maybe now I can understand why. Was she a virgin when you took her?" He laughed again at the confirmation on Snape's face. "I can see why you're so unwilling to share her. There's few things as alluring as virgin blood."

Snape schooled himself to ignore the taunts. "She is useful to our master, nothing more."

"Well when she is no longer useful, I will look forward to you sharing such a juicy little thing with the rest of us," Malfoy mocked.

"Oh, yes, Severus, you know it's rude not to share. You boys must make sure there is some left for me to play with," Bellatrix purred in his ear.

Snape shrugged her off, trying his best to damp down the rising fury he felt at their words. He knew exactly why the Dark Lord had given Malfoy orders to do this… a first step towards gaining the girl's trust when he rescued her, but it was a crude method. Idiots! The lot of them… The Dark Lord understood power, and the hunger for it very well, and he knew all too well how to use it to his advantage, but he had never been one for subtlety. It wasn't going to speed up the Dark Lord's plans for the girl, in fact, it was more likely to hinder them. You would think that I wouldn't have to put up with being surrounded with blithering idiots anymore now I'm no longer teaching.

Swooping down, he lifted the girl's exposed body into his arms, wrapping her cold limbs in his robes. She didn't protest at his handling of her. Although her eyes were open she was looking beyond him. With a final snarl at the two death-eaters he turned and swept out of the room, ignoring the quiet snickers behind him.

They left the manor house, the front door winding open by itself again, and he strode quickly down the path to where he could apparate from outside the gate. Wandlessly he lowered the wards to allow them to leave. Granger shifted slightly in his arms and he looked down at her, concerned. Her eyes were now focused on his, and she was gazing up at him with a small frown on her face.

Snape stared back at her wordlessly, his gaze roaming over the smooth pale skin that was on show to him. He remembered the soft silky feeling under his fingers as he had stroked her, crooning gentle words into her ear like lover. Snape felt himself hardening again at the thought. Mine, a possessive voice growled from somewhere inside him.

He blinked, surprised at his own sentiment, his eyes slipping back up to hers. She was clearly uncomfortable with his casual perusal of her body, her cheeks stained an angry red. As she moved to cover herself with her arms he spotted the blood. His fury rising again, he remembered the bloody blade that Bellatrix had been holding.

"Show me your am," he commanded.

She held it tight to her chest, her eyes full of pain. Dropping her suddenly to her feet he grabbed her wrist and snarled. "I said, show me your arm, girl."

He wrenched her wrist over and carefully wiped away the smear of blood that covered her inner forearm. Before the blood began to seep out f the wounds again he saw the word carved into her arm. Mudblood.

Damn that crazy bitch, he thought. The girl flinched as Snape pulled out his wand, but he only ran it over her arm, muttering a healing spell. "I do not wish to have my rooms covered with your blood, he said harshly. "If it bleeds again you will inform me." He looked up to catch her silent nod and the grateful gleam in her eyes as the pain lifted.

Snape looked back down at her arm, frowning, as he realised that while the wounds had stopped bleeding, they were still red and angry, when they should have been much better healed. He ran his wand over her again. "The cuts are full of dark magic, probably from the knife. There is little more I can do for them. They will never fully heal," he said bluntly.

The girl's eyes filled with tears, but to her credit she brushed them away before they could fall and nodded again. "Thank you." Her voice was quiet. He ignored her.

She cradled her arm carefully across her breast and shivered. He realised again that she was standing her pressed up against him still naked, not even his teaching gown around her to protect her from the cold. Snape wrapped the fabric around her once more, and looked down at her, hoping she could not see the lust in his eyes as he imagined laying her on his bed, clad only in his robes.

She only stared up at him calmly as he wrapped his arms around her, and with a sharp crack they were gone.


	9. His Puppet

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Warning, there is rape in this chapter, although it is not violent.  Please let me know what you think. Despite the content this is my favourite chapter so far, even though it was rather hard to write.

* * *

"I said, show me your arm girl."

Snape dropped her suddenly, and she only just managed to find her footing. Hermione tried not to wince as her bare feet touched the cold ground. She didn't want to show him her arm, the pain was still so strong she just wanted to keel over and just hold it and cry. She also was not eager to see the look in his eyes as he saw the word he had also branded her with verbally on several occasions.

Hermione was given no choice, he turned her wrist over sharply and she had to bite her lip to stop from crying out His touch on each cut sent fire through her whole body, although he seemed not to notice her trembling. Now that Snape's robes were no longer wrapped around her the cold was starting to chafe her limbs.

Hermione was very aware of her nudity, especially after the way he had unashamedly appraised her body. She had felt more exposed, lying there in his arms as his eyes had slowly taken her in, lingering on her breasts, than when he had fucked her up against the wall. That had been a horrific but cold experience, whereas this had felt much more personal. There was a heat in his eyes as he had gazed at her that she had not seen before.

Snape pulled out his wand, and for a moment she thought he was going to hex her. Instead he waved it over her arm and to her surprise the pain receded. She was about to thank him for his kindness when he spoke.

"I do not wish to have my rooms covered with your blood. If it bleeds again you will inform me." His words were meant to be harsh, but they didn't have their normal bite. She smiled at him faintly and nodded as he looked up at her.

Snape glanced back down at her arm, frowning and her eyes followed his down, realising that despite the spell the wounds were still there. He ran his wand over her again, although this time she didn't flinch. "The cuts are full of dark magic, probably from the knife. There is little more I can do for them. They will never fully heal."

The memory of lying on the floor, Bellatrix hovering over her, cackling softly to herself as she pressed the blade to Hermione's arm, assaulted her, and to her shame her eyes filled with tears. She hated showing weakness, especially in front of this particular man who had belittled her and ignored her for so many years.

Taking a shaky breath she lifted her hand to wipe away her tears, hoping he hadn't seen. She was proud of how steady she kept her voice as she thanked him. He didn't seem to hear her as his eyes were once again roaming over her bare skin. She shivered, less from the cold than in disgust at the memory of eager hands on her, Malfoy's or Snape's she didn't know.

Bashfully she covered herself with her arms, wishing he would wrap his teaching robes around her again. She would prefer the intimacy of sharing his clothes to the feel of his normally cold eyes gleaming darkly as he looked at her.

Maybe Snape had read her mind, as the moment she had thought it, he lifted his arms to pull her closer and draped the long material around her. She looked into his eyes, which were burning with an intense emotion that she didn't recognise, a second before they apparated.

* * *

As the world lurched and steadied around her, Hermione pulled away from Snape's dark gaze and saw that they had materialised in his bedroom. She shook with sudden apprehension as she caught sight of the heavily draped bed over Snape's shoulder, but she didn't want to leave the arms that encircled her waist and the heavy cloth that covered her.

Snape hadn't moved since they had apparated either. Hermione kept her eyes fixed on her hands that were clutching the front of his robe, for she knew that he was looking down at her. She was too afraid to glance up at him, for she was sure that she could now guess what he was thinking. She prayed she was wrong.

Casually, Snape reached around to the nape of her neck with his left hand and grabbed her messy braid, carefully pulling it back so she was forced to raise her head. She tried to avoid his eyes, so he tugged on her braid harder until she looked up. There was a predatory gleam in his eyes which made him look like a hawk eyeing his prey. One corner of his mouth was pulled upward slightly, his top lip lifted into a slight sneer. His face was cruel, his eyelids dark and heavy, contrasting greatly will the pallor of his skin.

There was an air of menace that surrounded Snape, something that once upon a time she had found strangely attractive, but now it terrified her. He seemed to hypnotise her, and she felt completely helpless in his arms, unable to even struggle against him, or pull her gaze away from his inky eyes.

Eventually Snape leaned down and roughly pressed his lips to hers, bruising her mouth. It broke the spell he had put her under, and she began to struggle against him. Snape responded by tightening his arms around her, pinning her against him, as he kissed her harder. Hermione fought against him, using what leverage she had to push the lower half of him away from her.

Snape grabbed both her arms and held them behind her, pulling her shoulders back and lifting her breasts up. He pulled away from her mouth and ran his gaze across them, his tongue coming out to wet his dark lips slightly. She turned her face away and shut her eyes, tears falling quietly down her cheeks. He had saved her from Malfoy and Lestrange, healed her arm and been kind. He had made her feel safe for a few moments. She felt such a fool.

Snape mumbled a spell, and Hermione found herself unable to more anything more than her head. Snape then stepped back, pulling off his teaching robes and draped them around her. She gaped at him, taken completely by surprise. Maybe he wasn't going to touch her. _Why would he truss you up like a chicken then?_ She watched him carefully, unsure of what he would do, and when he began to undo the buttons on his smock coat her heart sank.

His long, slender fingers worked slowly, each button that was undone showing a little more of his crisp white shirt. Hermione watched, transfixed, as her heart began to pound in her chest. He turned away from her to undo the buttons at his wrists, then pulled the coat from his body and laid it carefully over the arm of a chair.

"I won't do it, you know."

"Do… what?"

"I won't turn against my friends and support _him_ , whatever you do to me."

"What are you talking about?" he replied in a bored tone.

"You told him you could convert me so I would support him. I'll never do it. I'd rather _die_ first." The tears running down her cheeks were now those of anger and hate.

"That may still happen," he intoned. "I see somebody has been listening in to conversations that are not… meant… for them. Nothing a little _Obliviate_ won't take care of, of course."

"No…" she whispered, wishing she hadn't said anything.

Snape then sat down, opening the buttons of his fitted trousers at the ankles, and pulling his boots and socks off. Barefoot, he stood and stalked back to her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders and stroking firmly with his thumbs. She winced as the movement strained her bound arms.

He saw, and reached down to loosen her arms slightly. "Is that better?" he asked softly, touching her cheek with his other hand, and wiping away the track of her tears.

She dipped her head slightly and whispered, "Yes."

He grabbed her face with both hands, his fingers digging in hard. One thumb rubbed her bottom lip, tugging it down and dipping into the moisture of her mouth. She fought the whimper that welled up in her throat, and glared back at him.

"Are you frightened?"

"No," she said proudly, although she was desperately afraid.

He smirked at her, knowing that she was lying. His hands began to move gradually down, pressing into her flesh firmly. He ran his fingers along her collarbone, and grabbed her by the shoulders again, pulling her into him as he bent down and kissed her again. She kept her lips still as his moved on hers, taking what he wanted without remorse.

Snape's hands moved lower still, running down the sides of her breasts. His right hand moved to cup her breast, while his left snaked round her waist, pulling her snug against him. She could feel his hardness pressed between them. Hermione tried to pull back in revulsion, but the magical ropes held fast. Snape either didn't notice her struggle, or he didn't care.

Snape bent his head down, his lips trailing down her neck to her breasts, where he pulled her sensitive nipple into his mouth. Hermione was caught between two sensations. On one hand she wanted nothing more than to push him away, but the feeling of his mouth on her sent unwelcome ripples of pleasure through her, despite the roughness with which he was touching her. She felt sickened at the thought that he could make her body feel so good as he took what he wanted from her by force. _Maybe you want it too_.

"No…" the word slipped out faintly. "Please don't"

"Be quiet, girl, or I will silence you," Snape muttered sharply from below. His hands roamed lower, over her stomach, her back and bottom, stroking and squeezing. He continued to lavish attention on her breasts with his mouth, alternating between sucking gently and nipping at her skin until they were red and tender. He eventually moved his head back to view his work, smirking in pleasure at the sight.

Turning his attention back to her, he asked, "I'm going to lift the bindings. Will you keep still?" He looked at her questioningly, but she didn't answer. Apparently taking her silence for agreement, he put his arms around her once more and whispered the counter-charm.

The moment Hermione felt the invisible ropes disappear she began to struggle, trying to push his arms away and making a run for the door. Snape had anticipated this however, and quickly grabbed her arms once more, moving his body to block her flight. She wriggled in his grasp, but he was far too strong and the only thing she achieved were two twisted and sore wrists.

"You bastard," she cried. "You're no better than Malfoy! I hate you! Let me go!"

He chuckled, the low sound strangely sensuous. "You really have no idea, if you think he would be preferable to me. You have no clue how lucky you are to have been given to me and not him. I cannot even begin to describe the depths of depravity to which he would take you if given the chance. You are far better off here with me, my pet."

"I am not your pet!" she spat.

"Oh, but you are. You are mine to do with as I wish. If you prefer, I can take you up against the wall again, but I'm not sure you really enjoyed that last time. If you don't fight me, I can at least try to make it a bit more pleasant for you. Or maybe you'd like me to _Imperio_ you? I could order you to your knees so you can suck my cock before you climb on top and ride me. I can ever order you to enjoy it. Would you like that?"

At his words she had started shaking her head, trying to pull back from him. "No," she cried. "Please don't make me!" She was horrified at the thought of being forced into it, the idea of her enjoying her own rape was revolting.

Snape let go of her suddenly. She went stumbling backwards as the restraining arms she was pushing against disappeared. She threw a hand out to catch the nearest bedpost. She steadied herself and turned back to face him. He had his wand out, pointing it straight at her. "Which shall it be, my pet? Shall I force you again, or _Imperio_ you?"

Hermione stared back at him wordlessly.

"Very well," he lifted his wand to curse her."

"Neither," she said quickly, before he could do so.

He smiled at her, and lowered his wand again. "You will do what you are told?"

Hermione weighed the options one last time, and decided that since it did not look like she would be able to stop it happening, she may as well choose the option that afforded her the most dignity. She hated showing her fear, particularly to the man who had scorned and belittled her for so long. _Have courage, he may do what he likes with my body, but he can never change who I am. I will never betray my friends,_ she whispered in her head.

"Yes," she nodded carefully.

"Good girl. There are two potions on the table. Drink them now."

She walked to the table and picked up the first potion. It was the same as the one he had forced her to drink every evening. Hermione didn't hesitate in downing it. As usual, nothing seemed to happen. Putting down the empty bottle she uncorked the other and lifted it to take a sniff. She couldn't recognise it by smell or colour, but again, she figured there was no point in refusing, so she swallowed it down. Wrinkling her nose slightly at the bitter taste she set the bottle down and turned back to Snape.

"Now get onto the bed," he commanded.

She swallowed heavily and hesitated. He lifted one eyebrow at her, and lifted his wand slightly. Head held high, she turned and walked around to the side of the bed. She climbed in and pulled the covers over her, feeling suddenly cold and very exposed.

He watched her get in, then strode around to the opposite side of the bed, unbuttoning the top of his trousers. He pulled the covers back with a flick, and sat down on the sheets, tugging his trousers off his hips and pulling them down his legs. They were long and pasty, lean muscles covered lightly with dark hair. Snape then undid the high neck of his shirt, leaving most of the buttons further down done up and his long shirt on.

He lifted his legs, swinging them round and slipping beneath the covers. Hermione lay deathly still, breathing shallowly with anticipation. Snape rolled straight over to face her, leaving his side of the covers pooled around his legs, and pulled the rest off her. Hermione flinched as the cool air and his gaze touched her. He leant over her, running his hand lightly from her shoulder down to her hip, where it rested. Hermione tensed as he touched her, and closed her eyes.

"Relax, pet. It will be easier if you do."

How she hated that name, she resented the way it reminded her of his complete control over her. Irritated, she tried her best to relax her muscles and tried to find something to take her mind off her current situation. Listing ingredients for different potions would only bring her mind back to him, so she tried to imagine that it was someone else touching her, another's hand squeezing her breasts, running his hand over her stomach and thighs. It didn't seem to work. Her thoughts were constantly pulled back to the dark man above her.

"Look at me," he said. She ignored him, so he took her nipple in his mouth and bit. Hermione cried out in pain, arching her back and pawing at him. He took hold of her wrists again, pinning them down. "I will not ask twice again," he said sternly.

Her eyes were open now, and he locked his gaze with hers and bent back down to softly kiss her bruised nipple. Seeing her still watching, he began to nibble and lick softly, twirling the hard bud gently with his tongue. To her shame her breasts began to tingle with pleasure, and an aching throb started to move from her stomach slowly downwards. She tried not to let it show in her eyes, but she was obviously unsuccessful, as he smirked at her and chuckled wickedly as he continued.

Snape lifted one leg over hers and she felt his hard cock against her. He rubbed the tip gently against her smooth skin as his hand moved down her stomach and between her legs. His eyes were still on hers, and she dared not look away, even as he carefully pushed a finger inside her. She gasped and lifted her hips a little.

"Are you enjoying yourself my pet?"

She shook her head and breathed, "No."

"Open your legs," he directed. She obeyed with only the barest hesitation this time. He finally drew his gaze from hers and she sighed with relief as his burning eyes swept down her body.

"You are quite lovely, pet. I am glad Lucius never got his hands on you."

His finger began to move inside her, his thumb finding her clitoris and rubbing it gently in circles. She didn't know how something could feel so good and yet so wrong at the same time. Part of her wanted to run screaming from the room, while another part was enjoying the pleasure that was building, the heat pooling between her legs.

Snape looked back up at her, his eyes full of dark desire, and she knew her eyes would reflect the unwelcome need that was coursing through her now. She'd never been touched in such a way, having never felt the need to go so far with Viktor, and there had never been anyone who had been interested in her that way since. She had to put all her willpower into not bucking her hips into his fingers.

Then Snape shifted, pulling his fingers away from her, and settled himself between her legs, his weight pushing her into the mattress. The buttons of his shirt pressed uncomfortably into her stomach and she wondered why he hadn't removed it earlier.

Snape brought one arm up and rested his forearm next to her shoulder, using it to lift his body slightly so he could reach down with the other to grasp himself. Hermione took a deep breath, trying to relax so that it would hurt as little as possible. With one quick thrust he was in, breath hissing out from between his teeth. His hand came up to fist in the messy hair around her head and then his eyes were on hers again as he began to move. Hermione lay still beneath him.

She soon got used to the feel of him inside her, and soon he began to thrust harder and faster. Her experience may have been limited, but she was sure that this was nothing like the steamy sex that she had read in her secret stash of racy novels. He was cold and silent above her, the friction of his shirt against her breast was slightly painful, and he made no move to kiss her again. She could feel his excitement building, his breathing faster and heavier. He groaned quietly, the sound rumbling deep in his throat. It was a rich sensual sound, and against her will Hermione found herself wishing for him to make it again.

Snape reached down to lift her knee, and the change in position allowed him to push into her deeper. He was now brushing up against her clitoris with every thrust, and she felt a tightness between her legs that began to throb as he continued to push into her. He saw he eyes begin to glaze over with pleasure, but he didn't wait for her. With a few more jerks he came inside her, and she was left hanging as he pulled quickly out and slumped back onto the pillows.

Hermione didn't dare move, not even to rub her legs together in order to relieve some of the tension that pulsed inside her. Snape lay back, breathing hard beside her. She turned her head away from him and let the tears that had been threatening for a while come. She didn't think she'd even cried so much in her life as she had in the last few days.

Eventually Snape's breathing began to slow, and he reached over the side of the bed to pull his wand from the trousers that were heaped there. With a quick flick he extinguished the candles, and then he reached down to pull the covers up over the both of them. Laying his wand on the bedside table next to him he rolled back over to face Hermione, who was still lying where he had left her.

He threw an arm and leg over her and held her to him possessively. Hermione listened as his breathing became deeper and slower, while she lay there, unable to move, hopeless and unsatisfied.

* * *

After what felt like the longest time, Snape eventually felt Hermione's body relax into sleep. He waited until he was sure she was sleeping deeply enough that he would not wake her, and then he gently lifted his limbs off her and rolled away. She moved, turning slightly and snuggling into her pillow. He tensed, thinking she had awoken, but her breathing steadied again and she lay quietly.

Snape slowly stood up, picking up his trousers and silently entered his bathroom where he took a quick shower and dressed again. He stayed carefully away from his mirror, knowing he would not be able to stomach looking at himself in it.

He left this bathroom and tiptoed through the bedroom. Hermione hadn't moved. Exiting the bedroom he made his way to the headmaster's study, going straight to the cupboards and pulling out several items which he placed on the desk.

A voice behind him interrupted the silence. "How is she, Severus?"

"As well as can be expected. It was a difficult evening. The Dark Lord was somewhat impressed with her, and now wishes for me to find a way to convince her to support him."

There was a quiet chuckle. "She is lucky, to have you looking out for her."

"I doubt that she would agree with you right now," he snarled back, trying his best not to lose his temper. He looked over his preparations once more, touching one bottle gingerly, and realising his hand was shaking slightly.

"It's time," he said, and left the study.

* * *

Bending over her sleeping form he gently put a hand on her and shook her awake. The moment she became aware of where she was she gasped and tried to scrabble away from him, her eyes filled with fear.

"I am not going to touch you Miss Granger. Please put this on and follow me. There are things you must see." He saw her eyes widen in surprise at the use of her name. He handed her one of his robes and turned so she could climb out of bed and put it on. Thankfully she chose not to question him and was soon standing beside him, wrapped up tight in black cloth.

A short while later Snape was sat at his desk as the girl disappeared into the pensieve in front of him. She had done everything he asked and agreed to look without question, although he had spotted the quick glance she had given to the painting of Dumbledore, who as usual was pretending to be asleep.

Pulling some papers in front of him he tried to concentrate on reading them, but his mood was sour, and his mind soon wandered.

An hour later, he was brooding, head in his hands, papers forgotten in front of him. He was wallowing deep in self-pity and hatred, and therefore never noticed her re-materialise in front of him.

A hand laid gently on his shoulder broke his reverie, and he looked up cautiously, but the anger and hate he had expected to see in her eyes was not there, only sorrow and concern.

"Professor…" she whispered.

.

.

.

.

.

(Some time later…)

_"_ _Obliviate!"_


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

 

* * *

Hermione woke up, feeling strangely cold. Something had disturbed her but with her head still heavy from sleep she couldn't figure out. She rolled over in her comfortable bed, hugging the pillow, and starting to drift back into the dream she'd been pulled out of. _Pillows?_

With a gasp she sat up, realising suddenly where she was. Still naked, lying in Snape's large bed. The side where he had laid still retained a faint warmth, so she figured he must have recently left, and that was what had woken her.

Taking advantage of the fact that she was warm and comfortable for the first time since she had been captured, she snuggled back into the bed, pulling the blankets up tight around her neck while she thought.

A sense of confusion was growing as she contemplated the previous night's events. She dimly recalled the spell she had cast on Malfoy, sending him flying, and she felt shocked at her ability to perform such a horrible curse so effectively. The memory of the way Snape had caressed her, murmuring in her ear, as he somehow persuaded her Malfoy had been deserving of her anger, sent a shiver down her spine. It had been a very sensual experience, discounting his cruel words, and even now she felt herself responding to the thought of his hands on her.

That's where the confusion started. She had almost been raped by one man last night, and then actually had been later on, by the man who had rescued her. And now she was lying in his bed, getting turned on by the memory and wishing for more. _What is wrong with me?_

A few years ago she had read some psychology books that had spoken about the effects of rape and the condition of Stockholm Syndrome after she had found herself confused by a film she'd watched one summer at home. Even after reading it she had still found the idea of falling in love with your captor rather strange. Not that she'd had any real experience in affairs of the heart, but she was sure that she was not falling in love with Snape. But then why was she responding to him the way she was? Was there something twisted and wrong inside her that actually enjoyed being forced into sex?

On one level she had enjoyed the way he had touched her, when she knew she should have been feeling used and dirty. _Why didn't I fight him? I should have tried harder to stop him, not matter how much he hurt me_. She was under no illusion that she would have been able to stop him, even if she had had her wand, but she had given up without a fight, and that was most unlike her. She should have been furious about how he had taken advantage of her, yet she wasn't. There must be something wrong with me!

Even the thought of what Malfoy had nearly done to her only sent a shudder of repulsion through her, when by rights she should have been hysteric about the experience, especially considering that Bellatrix Lestrange had just finished carving up her arm. Hermione unconsciously started to rub it unconsciously.

The pain had been excruciating. Even the agony of Snape's Cruciatus curse could barely compare. She could feel the ridges of the semi-healed cuts under her fingers, and she lifted her arm to examine them. The wounds themselves were still red and angry, and after what Snape had said when he had tried to heal them, she wondered whether they would ever fade to white. Maybe there was a spell or potion that could help. If you ever get out of here that is.

The puffiness that had spread along her forearm around the damaged area had now gone. She traced her fingers over the letters, unsure quite how she felt about the branding. The word itself had stopped bothering her so much a while ago. It had usually been thrown at her by wizards for whose opinion she could care less for, such as Malfoy and other Slytherins. She was proud of being muggle born, her upbringing away from the magical world no hindrance to her achieving top marks and beating all those who had so distained her for her heritage.

However having the word permanently branded into her arm was another matter. The ugliness of it and the reaction of others was what was going to hurt her more in the long term. She had never felt particularly attractive, the lack of interest from her peer group had been slightly crushing, and now who was going to want to look at her with such an obvious, ugly scar?

A painful ache started to build behind her ribcage, some strong emotion that she couldn't identify. She wrapped her arms around her middle and held herself tightly. Why hadn't _he_ stopped it? She had been given into his charge, she was his… _pet_ …, his responsibility, and he had let Bellatrix hurt her so horribly, and had barely prevented Malfoy from raping her on the floor, as the blood still seeped from her arm.

She was suddenly and inexplicably furious. How dare he not take better care of her! She flung back the covers and jumped out of the bed. She paused to throw in the black robe that was draped over the back of a chair and stalked out of the room, hell bent on giving him a piece of her mind.

She slammed the door of his library open, correctly guessing she would find him in there. He was sat in his desk, quietly scratching away with a quill on a piece of parchment, and didn't seem to notice her dramatic entrance.

She had planned on screaming and shouting at him for his lack of care, for daring to touch her in the way he had, but his seeming indifference to her presence took the wind out of her sails, and as quickly as it had built, her un-natural anger began to drain away. She was left stuttering at him as her chest heaved and her hands shook with unreleased adrenaline.

"You… you…. "

He ignored her for a few minutes before eventually speaking. "I see you have finally decided to grace us with you presence," he sneered. "Why were you not ready to begin your tasks this morning?"

"What! You know full well where I was and wha…"

He turned his head and glared at her with such hostility that she took a step backward. "There is no excuse," he spat. "You should know what is required of you by now. Or do you need another lesson? Luckily for you, I usually take breakfast in the great hall on Mondays. It is necessary to put in an appearance on occasion to remind certain people just who is in charge here."

His voice was bitter as he said this, and she wondered why.

"I trust by now you know what needs to be done, or do you need me to teach you?"

Judging his temper to be fairly volatile this morning, she decided to err on the side of caution. "Yes, Master. I know what I need to do," she replied meekly.

Snape looked at her oddly for a moment before turning back to his work. "I will require lunch today, around one o'clock I think. I have no preference as to what you prepare." He waved a hand towards one of the armchairs that sat by the empty fireplace. "I have provided another dress for you, considering it was not completely your fault that the last one was destroyed. Take it and get out!"

She grabbed and fled, running quickly to her own bedroom where she flung herself on her bed and cried heartily. A while later, when she had nothing left in her, she turned over and stared up at the ceiling.

She had no memories of the previous months, and the last thing she could clearly remember was Bill and Fleur's wedding, although when she thought about it, there was a strange fragmentation to the memories. She knew it was a long time ago, yet it was her most recent memory, besides the last week at Hogwarts, and she found it hard to remember living without constant fear of punishment. Had it really been a week? It seemed like a lifetime… _Wait… a week? It's Monday today?_

Her brow furrowed, fingers tapping out the days of the week on her lips as she counted. That couldn't be right. She had been captured last Monday and brought to Hogwarts the same night. The next day she had tried to read Snape's notes and passed out. He had crucio'd her the next morning and the one following, the second time also searching through her memories. That should take her to Thursday. The horrible trip to Malfoy Manor should then have been on Friday evening, therefore it should now only be Saturday morning. How had she lost two whole day?

Hermione frowned, and started counting again. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it hadn't been Monday she'd been captured. How did she know that anyway, her memory had been wiped? Why was she so sure it had been last Monday? And hadn't she seen a calendar on Snape's desk that had said Wednesday. But that was on her first day here... So was she was only missing one day, or two?

She began to count again.

Hermione eventually came to the conclusion that she just couldn't know for sure, and just had to assume that she had been mistaken, and that she had actually been captured last Wednesday. She must had misread the calendar.

After a while she realised that she had been lying there for quite a long time, and that it was not getting her work done. She climbed out of bed, picking up the dress that had fallen to the floor. _Not completely my fault… What a bastard!_ She sighed as she examined the dress. It was a slightly darker shade of grey than the previous one. _Just my colour…_ The material was slightly less coarse, but the style was almost identical. _It could be worse I supposed, he could have refused to replace it at all_. A blush suffused her cheeks as she thought crossed her mind.

Hermione pulled the dress on and left then bedroom to start her chores, first going to the kitchen to decide what she would make for lunch. A quick glance at the clock showed she it was not long past ten-thirty. She still had plenty of time. She pulled out the cleaning supplies, thinking that she should start in the library, considering that's where he would be coming back to first.

* * *

Her timing of the food had been perfect, and at exactly one o'clock she was entering the library with a tray of food. As the door swung open she let out a gasp of surprise. On the opposite side of the room was a door which had not been there before. She placed her tray on the table and walked over to the door, prodding it carefully. It swung open slightly at her touch, and didn't seem to be warded.

Gingerly she put one finger to it and pushed it open. It opened into a large vaulted stone room, along one side of which ran several arches that opened onto a large stone balcony. And beyond that… sky.

Hermione stood still, her eyes drinking in the scene, the beautiful purple mountains framed by menacing dark clouds, the lake before them glassy and still. After her week in Snape's rooms even the gloomy weather outside seemed like the loveliest day. She stepped forward slowly, eyes drinking in the scenery, at first not seeing the man who was standing, motionless except for the movement of his robes in the soft breeze.

She eventually became aware of him, but as of yet he had not seemed to have noticed her presence, as he was intently watching something that was out of her sight. She stepped closer, the side of his face coming into view. His expression was hard to read from the side, but his mood seemed contemplative and somehow terribly sad. His eyes were shadowed and heavy, his face grave. She turned to see what he was staring at.

The quadrangle below was half filled with students, all of whom were standing around the edges, watching as a figure in black pointed their wand at the student writhing on the ground before them. As she watched another hex was shot at the unfortunate recipient. Hermione's hand flew to her mouth in shock, and she took a step forward, wishing she was able to rush down and help.

But there was nothing she could have done, even if she had been able to reach the quadrangle. As she watched in silence the figure turned to the watching students, obviously speaking to them, and they quickly began to leave the area, entering the door at one end and disappearing from sight. Many of them had arms around each other, and she could tell from the way they held themselves that they were dispirited and hurting.

As the last one left the quadrangle, the black figure spun back to the body on the floor, sending one last hex towards it, and stalked off after the students. A few moments later, she saw someone who could only have been Madame Pomfrey rush out, her wand out, casting healings spells and pulling bottles from her robes even before she reached the child. The student finally began to move, and was quickly immobilised and levitated out of sight.

Hermione let out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding, and looked over at Snape. The corners of his mouth were tight with anger, and the hands that hung at his side moved slightly, as if aching to pull out his wand and hex someone. _Probably angry that Madame Pomfrey was so quick to help._

With one last look at the dreary clouds above he pivoted slowly, finally seeing her. His face immediately went blank, the fury quickly supressed, and despite the lack of response, she knew that he had been unaware of her presence until that moment.

"I do not believe you were given permission to come out here, girl. What do you think you are doing?" he drawled. There was a stranger tenor to his voice that was not usually there, and it made him sound strange somehow. His eyes blazed with some dark emotion that he had wiped from his face.

"I didn't know I was breaking any bounds, there were no wards on the door."

"Yet you didn't think that if the doorway was normally hidden and warded that it was not meant for you. Your insufferable curiosity about things that are none of your business have earned you another punishment. We will discuss it later. Now, get back to work!"

Hermione balked at the threat, and quietly did as she was told, not wishing to anger him further. As she moved to pull the door closed behind her, she saw Snape turn back to stare out over the scenery before him, his hands now balled into fists at his sides. She exited the library quickly, leaving his dinner going cold on the desk.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

I'm trying to come up with chapter names. Any suggestions?

* * *

She had expected to be punished the next morning, as had happened before, but she was wrong.

That evening Hermione carried his dinner into the library. Snape was seated in one of his armchairs, with his back to the door, and at first she didn't see him. She laid the tray carefully on the desk, wondering where he was, and muttering about people who don't turn stick to the time they set themselves.

As she turned she caught sight of Snape, his head hung low, eyes staring at nothing, a forgotten book lying open in his lap. Hermione jumped, eyes going wide in an expression of innocence as she hoped he hadn't heard her. _That's the second time today I've caught him looking so… sad._

Then he lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers, a wry smirk now on his face, and she knew he had heard. She looked back, trying to keep her face blank, as he rose from the chair and moved to the desk.

"Hmph…" was all the recognition she got for her work, as he ate the first bite.

She stood still and waited for permission to leave, and when it came she turned immediately. As she did so a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, squeezing painfully. She looked at him, surprised and off-balance by the sudden surge of adrenaline his action had caused.

Snape was still looking at the food before him, a fork in his left hand, and her wrist in the other. Hermione resisted the urge to pull away. He took another bite, licking his lips slightly, and suddenly she could look at nothing else. Hermione bit gently on the inside of her mouth, transfixed by the sensual curves of his, and remembering the way they had moved over her skin.

Her heart was thumping so hard, and she prayed he couldn't feel the beat in her wrist. She could feel herself trembling. Snape squeezed her slightly, a smirk covering his face as he glanced down at where he held her. _Oh Merlin, let him think I'm just scared_. She was, of course, but at the moment she was more concerned with the faint stirrings of lush that coiled in her belly. Concerned and ashamed.

Hermione felt her cheeks go red, and hoped Snape was too engrossed in his meal to notice. From the smug look on his face though, she suspected he knew was she was feeling. _Oh Gods, please no… What if he thinks I want to… How can I be feeling this way, it's just so...wrong. He's an evil, malicious bastard! He's only using you and trying to convert you. He's going to hurt you and…"_

A sudden flash of fear ran through her at the thought of him assuming her willing and eager for him to fuck her again, making her feel horribly sick. Something on her demeanour must have alerted Snape, as he immediately looked up into her eyes, delving into her mind to read her thoughts.

"Ah, yes," he drawled, "I'd almost forgotten that you'd been listening into other people's conversations. I will deal with it in a minute." He turned back to his food, lightening his grip for a second, and she took immediate advantage, tearing her wrist from his grasp and fleeing.

She only managed two steps before invisible bonds snapped around her, and she fell forwards, unable to put her arms out. At the last second before she hit the floor she stopped. It took her a few moments to realise that his arms were around her and he had lowered her gently to the floor, turning her over and huddling over her.

All traces of arousal had left her body, and she was terrified at the thought of him destroying the memory that she had hope would save her, hold her back from falling for his manipulations to turn her. She knew he was a master manipulator who was extremely adept at convincing people to believe what he wanted them to. _He made me want him, even though I know he's trying to convert me. How will I be able to resist if I don't understand what he is trying to do. He fooled Dumbledore… do you really think you could have resisted him either way?_

Snape straddled her, his robes settling over the both of them as she grabbed her hands and wrenched them up above her head. Holding them down with one hand he placed the tip of his wand against her temple. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head from side to side, wriggling her body in an attempt to throw him off.

He was too heavy to shift, and much stronger than he seemed. "Look at me," he snarled loudly. When she refused to stop trying to unseat him he growled an oath and quickly conjured shackles that held her hands to the floor. His hands now free, he shifted so that his weight was on her torso, legs clamped either side of her body. He grabbed her chin tightly, but she yowled and tried to bite him in her frenzy.

A sharp slap across her face brought her back to her sensed, and she stared at him, astonished, a red mark spreading across her cheek. Now that he had her attention Snape quickly brought his wand back to her head and looked into her eyes, whispering, "Legilimens…"

Images suddenly crowded her brain of the evening she had spent at the Malfoy's, the terror and anticipation, Snape stroking her body, the curse she had thrown at Malfoy, straining to hear a quiet conversation…

Snape carefully sifted through her memories of that night, prying apart the walls she kept trying to throw in his way. He whispered soft words as he worked, although as he did so she could never seem to remember what he had said a moment later. Every now and then there was a small sense of loss, and then even the memory of that disappeared. Confusion grew in her until she was no longer sure what she was doing on the ground, or why Snape was bent over her. Eventually even that memory flickered away and vanished as everything went dark.

* * *

Snape was sitting in his armchair quietly reading when the girl began to stir, shifting slightly and murmuring from her position on the floor. After a few moments she opened her eyes, blinking confusedly at the ceiling above her.

_A test…_ "Yet again you seemed to have passed out on my floor, pet. This seems to be becoming a habit of yours, one that I am not particularly fond of."

She sat up, hands to her head, and peered around at him, still a bit dazed. "Why, what happened to me?"

He tisked loudly. "Another bad habit you seem not to be able to break. You should know better by now that to ask questions."

She looked chastened, obviously worried that he would punish her for asking. Good, the fool girl need to learn when to hold her tongue. "Do you not remember? he asked silkily.

"I'm… I can't remember anything after bringing in your dinner. Wha….?" She shut her mouth with a click before she finished the question, looking him in the eye as if caring him to comment.

Snape ignored the unspoken challenge. "I believe the memory loss may have been caused by you banging you head fairy hard on the floor during your punishment this evening. I have already examined and healed it." He glared at her here, warning her not to comment on him playing nurse. "There was a small lump. But you say you cannot remember anything after bringing in my dinner?"

She nodded her head mutely. He leaned forward, trying to feign a slight concern as one would for a possession possibly damaged _. Let's see if she managed to hide anything_ … He watched her face carefully. She was not clever enough to hide her emotions from his scrutiny, so he would know if she remembered.

"Think back and try to recall if there are any blank spots in your recent memories, any conversations or events of which you can only remember part of."

She thought for a few moment and then shook her head slowly. "I don't think so," she said.

_Good, but to be sure_ …"You will inform me if you recall any such instances. It is a concern that you have lost so many memories, on top of what is missing from before your capture. The Dark Lord is anxious that you be kept in... relatively… good health."

Her face tightened at his last words. She was obviously concerned as to why the Dark Lord wanted her, but there had been nothing in her manner to make him believe she knew anything more. A wave of satisfaction flowed through him, but he made sure his face betrayed nothing to her.

Snape thought back to what he'd seen in her memories. She had enjoyed the way he had touched her as he convinced her to curse Malfoy. Thank God she managed that so well. Her confusion at the mix of arousal and shame at her feelings when he had taken her later that evening had been tangible, and he thought back to the way her soft skin had felt, the feel of her body under him. He felt his cock twitch at the recollection.

He had wanted to make her come, hear her moan with unsought-for pleasure, but he had held back, knowing he needed to make her want him more. _The first step.._. _The Dark Lord will be pleased at the way she responds to me already._ He ached to have her again, but he knew now was not the moment. She was too vulnerable right now with another loss of memory, and he knew he had to play it very carefully. _Always so carefully. Why can my life never be simple?_

With an indifference he did not feel inside he snapped, "Now leave me. Get back to your room. You will be ready when I come for you tomorrow."

A look of relief crossed her face. He was under no illusion as to why. _She's glad I don't want more from her this evening_. Holding her head high, _damn foolish Gryffindors_ , she did as she was told and left.

As soon as the door closed, Snape pointed his wand at the fireplace, muttering, "Incendio." Merlin knew he was fed up of keeping his chambers cold and dark, but he knew how important appearances were. Eventually he felt a small magical flicker that told him the girl was now locked in her room for the night, and he finally relaxed.

The fire soon warmed the room nicely, and leaning back in his armchair, his eyes reflecting the flickering flames and his hair falling around his bowed face, Snape sat and brooded.


	12. A Cold Bath

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

She'd managed two full days without falling foul of Snape's temper or ability to find fault with the tiniest thing. Hermione had made a real effort to follow his rules, unwilling to risk the chance of punishment again. It felt like she'd sent most of her time there in tears or unconscious and she didn't want to spend any more time in either state.

Of course she felt anxious about why Voldemort might want her kept in good health, but she was also concerned about it herself. She'd already lost months of memories, and now she had lost more. The exact day of her capture was also a problem that still niggled at the back of her brain, and she'd started making little scratches on the wall in her room to count the days.

It was Thursday now, and she'd begun to fall into a routine, having figured out the most efficient way of getting her chores done. It also had the added benefit of keeping her out of Snape's way as much as possible. She had noted the times that he would enter his chambers from his office, and made sure she was busy in the kitchen when he was expected _. What does he do in that office all those hours? Or is there somewhere else that he goes?_

At mealtimes he'd studiously ignored her, and had barely spoken to her otherwise, except to give her the occasional order or growl at her to take her nightly potion and get out. She had noticed a strange sort of tension in the way he held himself around her, and on the few occasions that they had surprised each other in the hall, he had eyed her quietly for a minute or so, his eyes and face devoid of emotions as he studied her.

She would quickly lower her gaze so he would have no cause to complain, and she would feel his eyes searching her face before he turned on his heel and left. What he was looking for she didn't know, but she was starting to get fed up of the endless silence. He might be a sullen, miserable old bat who enjoyed nothing more than his own company, and heaven knows she had never been the most social of creatures. But she almost wished he would speak or even yell at her, give her some sort of attention _. Gods, I must be desperate if I want that_.

Hermione missed the boys keenly, longing for easy conversation and shared laughter. She was getting so bad she reckoned she would even be glad to see Draco turn up to throw insults at her.

But today was different. Snape hadn't come back at his usual time for lunch, and she'd eventually had to throw it away. He turned up a few hours later, just as she was beginning to get really worried, despite having told herself several times why should she care if he never came back.

She had been sitting quietly in kitchen, having finished all her work, and wishing for something to fill her time with. She heard the door to his office bang open. Rushing out without a thought she almost ran into him. He grabbed her by the shoulders as she just managed to stop short of him. She carelessly looking up into his face, but luckily his eyes were shut and she took a quick moment to observe his features.

His skin was sallower than usual, his mouth and eyelids seemed darker by comparison. Unbidden, her heart began to beat a little faster at the close proximity. She then realised that his face was more deeply lined than normal, a strange tightness around his eyes. Frowning, she took a step back, out of his arms reach, and scanned quickly up and down his body to see if she could see what was wrong.

As she did so he swayed slightly, and she automatically reached out her own hand to his side to steady him. He flinched, his eyes opening, and she pulled her hand back in shock as she felt something sticky on her fingers.

"Out of my way, girl," he tried to snap. Despite the lack of authority in his tone she did as she was told and she staggered past her toward his bedroom. His robe flapped open as he moved, and she got a glimpse of slashed trousers and bloodied skin underneath. Looking down at her fingers Hermione saw they were also red.

She followed him into his room and watched as he collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to take off any of his clothes. He hissed in pain as his side twisted when he rolled onto his back. Blood had already stained the sheets from his side. Before Hermione could remind herself that this man was her enemy she was over by the bed, pulling his robes back and ripping away the torn material that was pressing into the wound.

She gaped at the sight of him. There were several deep gashes all the way up from his side up his ribcage, all bleeding freely. Several older scars criss-crossed the new wounds, and she was horrified at the abuse he had obviously suffered at some point in his life. As she pulled the material away the man on the bed moaning with the main and finally seemed to become aware of her.

Weak hands threw hers away, and he fixed his gaze on her furiously, the pain in his eyes pushed back, but obviously threatening to overwhelm him. "What do you think you're…?" he started, but the effort seemed too much and he grounds, pressing his hands to his bloody side.

"I'm trying to help you, you fool man," she snapped back, but her heart wasn't in it, and he hadn't seemed to have heard her anyway. He was starting to fade out of consciousness, and she didn't know what she could do without the aid of her wand or healing potions. She checked his legs quickly, but the cuts seemed fairly superficial, and nothing to worry about in comparison to the ones on his torso.

She thought back over everything she knew about muggle first aid. _Stop the bleeding first, I guess._ She rushed into his bathroom and came back with several towels. She folded one quickly and placed it over his side, pushing down hard, as she remembered she'd seen in some film. Snape moaned and tried to throw her off, but the movement was weak and she didn't budge. Hermione climbed on the bed next to him so she could put more weight into it.

The towel was soaked though in a couple of minutes, so she replace it with another. The blood seemed to be flowing much slower, she saw with satisfaction as she lifted the first one away. The second towel took longer to soak through and by that time her arms were aching from keeping the pressure on.

Snape had been deathly quiet for a while, but as she pulled away the second towel to inspect the wound he started to move again. Hermione touched her fingers gingerly to the area surrounding the wound. There was a faint tingle of dark magic she could feel even though she was bound, and the area was unnaturally hot to the touch. She had a horrible feeling that the wounds weren't going to fully close up without some sort of counter curse or a potion.

Snape moved again, tossing his head from side to side. She looked up, concerned. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead and his skin was strangely flushed. Hermione put her hand to his head and hissed. He was burning up. Bugger… what am I supposed to do? The only thing she could think of was a cold bath to help reduce the temperature, but how was she going to get him into the bathroom. She also knew he would continue bleeding out into the water if she didn't find a way to close the gashes first. _Shit… shit…SHIT!_

She knew she had to do something quick. If he died she would be stuck I here with no way to lower the wards. She put her hand back to his forehead. He was hotter than before. Cold bath it is. I'll just have to tie something around his side for now. She ran to the bathroom, turning on all the taps and making sure they were the right temperature.

Grabbing two more towels and wetting the smaller one she made her way back to Snape, laying the damp cloth over his forehead. She needed him aware enough to help her, for she would never be able to get him in the bath otherwise.

Bending down she undid his boots and pulled them off with his socks. Her fingers then went to the buttons of his trousers, hesitating for a moment as she recalled when she had last seen him without them. Snape muttered something quietly and it brought her back to the task at hand. She quickly dealt with the row of buttons and with some difficulty managed to pull the trousers down over his hips off his legs.

His long robes were already half off, so she lifted his arms out of the sleeves and set to work on his ruined coat. _What is with this man and ridiculous amounts of buttons?_ She pulled him out of the coat gently, taking care not to touch his side, except to make sure the towel was pressed tight against him. Eventually he was lying on his open clothes, clad only in the remains of his shirt and black boxers. She couldn't bring herself to remove any more.

Hermione could do nothing now without waking him, so she leant over his head, checking the cold towel draped across it, and whispered, "Sir?" No answer. "Sir!" A little louder, gently shaking his shoulder. He murmured quietly. "Professor! You need to get up! She shouted. "I need you to walk into the bathroom."

Snape's eyelids fluttered softly and with an obvious effort his head turned towards her. His hand lifted slowly and waved in the direction of the bedside drawers. "In… there…"

Hermione jumped off the bed and tugged on the drawers. It didn't budge. There was no keyhole, so she guessed it must have been magically locked and warder. She tugged again, even though she knew it was fruitless. _Open you bloody thing, I'm trying to help the bastard!_ Suddenly the drawer opened and she flew backward onto the floor, with the momentum of the sudden release.

Peering into the drawer that was in her hands she saw a couple of flasks. Hermione pulled the cork out of one and took a careful sniff. From the colour and smell she guessed it was blood replenisher. She pulled out the other stopper as well. She wasn't completely sure what it was, but she could detect some of the ingredients that made a normal healing potion, although there were elements she wasn't sure of. _Better than nothing._

She moved back to the bed, taking both vials with her. Putting her hand under his head she lifted it slightly and brought what she hoped was a healing potion to his lips and tipped it into his mouth. Snape coughed and spluttered, trying feebly to push her away, but she persevered and he was forced to swallow or drown in the liquid.

Hermione sat back and watched as the wounds began to knit together. They didn't heal as completely as she had hoped, but at least they were no longer oozing blood. She opened the blood replenisher and made him drink that also. By the time he was finished he was breathing a little easier, but the area around his wounds was still hot and red, and the fever hadn't disappeared.

She returned to the bedside drawers again, hoping to open the second drawer. It wouldn't open, no matter how hard she tugged, and neither would any of the other furniture in the room, or the door to his lab. When she returned to Snape's side she could see he was getting worse. _Cold bath it is then_.

Hermione returned to the bathroom, and shut off all of the taps _. Thank God there are so many, this bath is huge!_ She went back to Snape again, tugging at his shoulder to try and get him to move. "Sir, please, you need to move! Professor, get up!" she shouted. He finally shifted, rolling onto his side with her help, and she pulled his legs over the side of the bed and heaved him upright.

Snape nearly fell straight on the floor, and with difficulty she ducked under his arm and wrapped hers around his waist, dragging him slowly towards the bathroom. Once there she stopped, unsure of how to get him in the bath. He could barely lift his feet to walk and it was taking all she had to keep him upright. There was only one way she could think of. Hermione eyed the bath. Luckily it was a typical Hogwarts's bath, deep and wide.

Extracting herself from under his arm she gave him a slight push. He immediately lurched forward, and fell over the side of the bath, hitting the cold water with a splash and sinking. Hermione followed him straight in, knowing that she needed to keep him afloat. _Bloody hell, it's cold_! Snape was still under the water, and grabbing him by the shoulders she dragged him up and to the shallow end of the bath.

She turned him onto his back, trying to prop his upright in the shallower water, but he kept slipping down, the water covering his mouth. With a resigned sigh she crawled behind him, wrapping her legs around his hops to stop him from sinking. His head was on her shoulder and she began gently bathing his head with the cool water as best she could as he murmured gently. _Bloody bastard better appreciate this._ She snorted. _Bloody unlikely though! At least the bleeding has stopped. I don't think I couldn't have managed if I'd had to be careful with his side. What happened to him anyway?_

Hermione continued pouring water across his brow as she thought, wiping his face gently with her fingers. Her legs were getting cramped and numb from holding him up, so she stuck the arm upon which he was leaning under his and tugged him up slightly, relieving the pressure on her legs a little.

The cool water seemed to be helping somewhat. The flush was starting to leech from his face, and he was now lying quietly. She tried to work out how long they had been lying there. At least 20 minutes by now. SHe started when he shifted slightly and turned his face towards her, but after a few barely audible mutters he settled back against her shoulder.

After a moment's pause she continued with her ministrations, gently smoothing back the limp, damps hair from his temples, and tying not to think about the last time his face had been so close to hers. His expressions had finally relaxed, the tense lines of pain now smoothed away. SHe studied him intently. HE looked very different from the sneering, cruel man who had taught her for six years. She realised now that even the impassive expression he often wore was just another mask.

She stroked her fingers tenderly across his eyebrows and down the side of his face. In sleep he seemed serene and oddly beautiful. What would Harry and Ron say if I told them that? That I'd gone mad in captivity probably. Her fingers traced his high cheekbones, running downwards, her thumb brushing across his chin.

Remembering her task Hermione scooped some mover water over his forearm and watched as it trickled down into his hairline. One drop slowly ran down the bride of his nose and hung under his eye. It made him look like he was crying, and she wondered about the times when she had caught him looking forlorn and sad. The accompanying flash of pity made her feel uncomfortable and she shifted him slightly in his arms, returning her attention to his face.

Hermione carefully wiped away the drop with her fingers, then on impulse ran her finger down the length of his crooked nose, smothering a light smile. Imagine if anyone could see me now. His mouth had fallen slightly open, his skin had not returned to its normal pallor, and he seemed to be cooler.

Her hand was still on his face, her thumb a hairsbreadth away from his dark lips. Hermione licked her own, again assaulted by her memories. Very slowly she touched her thumb to the corner of his mouth, flicking her eyes up to his to see if he reacted. Nothing. Gently she drew the pad of her thumb across the bottom line of his lips. In sleep they were full and sensual, not pinched and tight as they normally were, and she wondered at the constant control he had over his emotions and expressions.

She had run her fingers around the rest of his lips, across the top and was now stroking their soft curves with her thumb, softly and rhythmically. So intent was she on her inspection of his lips that she did not notice at first when his eyes opened. It was only after a few seconds when his lips began to tighten that she looked up and froze at the sight of him watching her.

After a few moments he blinked slowly, breaking the spell, and she jerked her hand backward quickly as if pulling it from a fire. Hermione looked away, embarrassed at having been caught touching him so. Her eyes fell on his body, the shape of his chest through the soaked white shirt that clung tightly to him. Something inside contracted almost painfully, and her breath caught.

She forced herself to take deep breaths and tried to will herself calm, but she was all too aware of his weight pressing against her breast, his body between her legs, and his warm breath on her neck. Snape still hadn't moved.

He spoke quietly. "Would you care to enlighten me as to what we are both doing in my bath and in such a state?"

"Oh… ummm…" Hermione stammered. "You were badly injured and I… there wasn't much I could do… and you were so hot…" She quickly told him the whole story, still unable to meet his eyes for more than a fleeting glance. When she had finished he lay still, not replying. Confused as to the lack of response she finally turned her head towards him.

He was watching her carefully from his position on her shoulder, a questioning look on his face.

"Why?"

"Why…? I don't know why, you've barely said two words to me since you got back so how would I know." She looked at him uncertainly.

He paused before replying. "I mean why did you help me?"

"Oh, that…" Hermione shifted, drawing away from him slightly, strangely uncomfortable with the unexpected question. "If something happened to you, I'd be stuck in here. None of my friends know I'm here, and who knows how long it would be before any of your… associates would bother to come look for you. Not that I would want them to anyway. That's all."

Snape studied her for a moment, his face once again tightening back into the mask that she was so used to. "If you'd be so kind to release me so I can get out of this freezing water..." he sneered.

Hermione was reminded suddenly that her legs were still wrapped tightly around him , and now that he was awake the position felt so much more intimate than it had a few minutes ago. She sheepishly unwrapped her legs from around him, and he moved away from her, climbing out slowly. She could see that him movements were stiff and without his usual grace. He would probably need a few more potions and some rest before he was fully healed, but at least he was in a fit state to take care of himself.

As the heat from his boy receded she realised just how cold she was as well, and clambered out as quickly as she could manage. They both stood there awkwardly for a moment, clothes clinging to their skin, unsure quite what to do next. Very aware of how her dress was hugging her body, Hermione covered herself with her arms and turned away from him.

Strangely Snape seemed just as self-conscious about the amount of flesh of his that was on show, through the ripped hole and the soaking white fabric. She felt his eyes on her back, and then he moved and pulled his wet clothes off, and she heard his wet clothes fall to the floor with a dull thump.

After a minute he said, "You may turn around now. She did, and saw that he was holding out a towel for her, another one wrapped around his torso and upper legs. "I will leave you to get dry." He half-turned away from her, looked back and paused, his mouth moving slightly as if he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it and quickly strode out.

She peeled her sodden dress off over her head awkwardly as it stuck uncomfortably to her chilled skin. The towel was thick and large, and it covered a good part of her, but she felt chilled to the bone, and was starting to shiver hard. Hoping the bedroom would be slightly warmer she left the bathroom, carrying her wet dress in one hand, having wrung most of the moisture out into the bath. Her messy braid was sodden at the end, although the hair on top of her head had somehow managed to stay dry.

She was surprised when she entered the bedroom. The fire was blazing and the room was already warm enough that Snape must have cast a warming charm. He was already dressed in a pair of black trousers and a clean, dry shirt, and was currently cleaning the bed sheet of blood and remnants of clothes with his wand.

He glanced up at her as she came in. "Stay where you are." She did as she was told. He picked up a black robe from where it hung by the bed and walked towards her, still favouring the side where he had been hurt. When he raised his want at her she jumped back, hands going up automatically, but he just growled, "Don't be stupid, girl. Stand still." To her surprise he dried the ends of her hair and the dress over her arm with a quick spell.

Snape then thrust the robe at her. "Put it on." She wrapped it gratefully around her shoulders with a quiet, "Thanks. "She was then pushed towards the fire.

"Get warm. I can't abide listening to people sniffling and moaning when they catch cold."

Hermione sat down on the rug in front of the fire, first shaking out her dress and laying it over a chair. She arranged her robe carefully so that it hung thickest down the back, but open at the front so the heat from the fire could creep in and warm her.

Peering over her shoulder she watched Snape shuffle carefully into his laboratory. He was on there for about 5 minutes and when he re-emerged he seemed to be moving more easily, his skin tone completely normal for the first time that evening. She knew better to than to inquire, so she assumed he had taken some more healing potions.

Hermione kept her eyes carefully on the flickering flames, although her mind followed him as he moved around the room. A movement to the side caught her attention as she looked to see Snape placing a chair on the other side. With a flick of his wand, transfiguring it into a more comfortable armchair, not dissimilar to those in his library. He sat down in his chair, leaning towards the flames, elbows on his knees and watched her.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Rape warning for this chapter.

* * *

Hermione was aware of his scrutiny, and was careful not to look at him. She wondered idly whether he was able to read her surface thoughts without having to probe _. I hope not._ Hermione wished she knew what he was thinking. _I wish I knew what I was thinking too._ She sighed quietly, revealing in the heat that was spreading through her body, and stretched, her bare legs appealing from under the voluminous robe.

They sat in silence for a while, the tension slowly becoming more and more unbearable. To take her mind off his uncomfortable presence beside her, she pulled her hair over her shoulder and undid the braid carefully, pulling out the tangles with her fingers as she worked her way up. Her braid finally undone, she tried to run her fingers through her roots, but the hair there was now beginning to get quite matted.

"That rat's nest you call your hair is becoming quite offensive to look at," Snape drawled. She tried to ignore his mean comment, still fruitlessly pulling at the knots. "Here, sort it out, and make sure you keep it looking more presentable in future, or I will have to cut it all off."

She glared at him out of this corner of her eye, irritated because it was not her fault her hair had become so messy. She saw him thrust something towards her, and put her hand out to take it. Her fingers closed around something smooth and cold. It was a small hairbrush. She looked up in his eyes, surprised. _Is this his way of saying thank you?_

His hair hung around his face, and his heavy brows left his eyes shadowed, except for the flicker of flame that was reflected in them. She could not make out his expression at all. Hermione took the brush silently, turning it over in her hands as she settled back to the floor. She slowly started pulling it through her hair, shivering not from the cold, but from the warmth of his fingers as they had touched hers.

Snape leaned back in his chair, content to watch her again as she began to brush rhythmically, her lips parted slightly as she fought wither hair, making small hisses when she tugged on a particularly bad knot.

It took a while before the matted mess covering her head was detangled. When it was finally finished Hermione closed her eyes and continued brushing, in long strokes from the crown of her head to the ends, her mouth open in an expression of pleasure. Sitting there, her eyes closed, warmed through and lost in the comforting feel of the brush over her scalp, she could have almost imagined herself elsewhere. A small contented sigh escaped her lips.

Snape shifted in his seat, pulling a vial out of his pocket and drinking it. The rustling noise of his clothes against the chair brought her back to the real world. She pouted, annoyed at having been torn out of her little dream. Regretfully she put the brush down and ran her fingers though her hair, separating it as she prepared to re-braid it again.

His hands flashed out and grabbed hers, pulling them away from her hair. "Don't do that," he whispered. Snape then released her hands, and she let them fall into her lap. His fingers tugged gently on a strand of her hair. She looked at him incredulously, but didn't dare to say anything.

His hands tangled in her hair and he slowly let her curls run through his fingers. An uneasy feeling was building in her stomach and her chest began to tighten. _Oh no… please, not this again… not now._

Snape continued to stroke her hair gently, occasionally twirling a strand around a finger as she sat unmoving before him. Under other circumstances she could have found what he was doing quite pleasant. It felt extremely intimate, and there was a small part of her taking pleasure in the way her untangled hair was being played with, but she was too apprehensive to relax and enjoy it.

Then his hand fisted in her hair, and her head was pulled back firmly, elongating her neck, and arching her back slightly. Snape had moved down onto the rug, kneeling beside her. His other hand came up to her neck and he ran his fingers up and down the sensitive skin there. Hermione swallowed with difficulty, the muscles in her neck tight with fear.

"You will keep your hair like this from now on. It makes you look less like a half-starved rat," he said cruelly. "Since I have no choice over your presence here, you will make more of an effort with your appearance. You're starting to become unbearable to look at." He wrinkled his nose distastefully at the thought.

Hermione blinked back tears at his spiteful words, and bit her tongue to stoop herself from reminding him just whose fault it was that she had been unable to brush her hair for almost two weeks.

Snape tugged at her hair. "You look much more presentable like this… more tempting…" He swept the robe from her shoulders and pressed his mouth to the side of her neck. She flinched at the sudden movement and he bit her hard where her neck joined her shoulder. Hermione squealed in pain.

"Stay still, pet, if you don't want to get hurt," Snape growled. Her breaths came in shallow gasps, as she fought every instinct in her body that were crying out for her to flee. She knew it was pointless in any case. Maybe he had read her mind, for he chuckled against her neck and said, "You know better than to run by now, don't you pet. You think I didn't feel you testing my wards or realise what you've been doing. The only way out for you is through me."

So he knew. She'd been surprised at the time that he'd said nothing, or given her any clue that he knew. She'd been carefully checking each room as she cleaned for anything that might help her escape, but his rooms were devoid of all but basic furniture, none of which had opened when she tried to search inside. She was unable to read with the books or papers that he left out, and there were no windows and only the one door to escape through. The door to the balcony room had vanished, and she had been unable to find even a tingle of magic to tell her where it was.

Hermione had even spent a fruitless afternoon in front of the door to the headmaster's study, trying to draw on her magic and reach out to test the wards. For one moment she had felt the faintest tingle as she had touched the door, but she was half convinced she had imagined it. She knew all too well how hopeless it was to think of escape.

"Why would you want to escape, pet, when you can be safe in here with me?" She shuddered as he nipped and sucked his way down her shoulder, her head still held back awkwardly.

"I can be kind, if you make an effort to please me." Hermione whimpered, knowing full well what he meant. She thought quickly. _Maybe if I give him what he wants and pretend to be happy to stay, he might relax and make a mistake._ Could she do it though? She wasn't sure that she was that good an actress. Not that it looked like she had any choice right this moment.

Snape let go of her hair, and her head fell forward, her muscles protesting against being held for so long in such a way. His fingers tugged at the towel she was still wrapped in, ripping it away from her. She tried to cover herself, but he grabbed her arms, and twisting her around, pushed her down onto the rug, his body over hers.

Snape reached down between them, unbuttoning his trousers, holding her down with his other arm. He sighed with relief as he freed his erection, and then kicked his trousers off, leaving only his shirt between them.

His head bent down to take her nipple in his mouth. Snape sucked hard, marking her cry out with the mix of pleasure and pain. "Do you like that, pet? he asked, running the flat of his tongue over the tip, lifting his eyes to her face. She shook her head, unable to answer.

Snape shifted to the other breast, sucking harder this time. She cried out again, her back arching up, pressing herself against him. "You don't sound convinced about that, pet," he said smugly. He reached down between them, settling himself fully between her legs. He used his hand to rub the tip of his cock against her opening.

"How about that? Do you like it?"

"No," she lied, as to her shame she felt her body responding to his rough handling, moisture building between her legs as she stroked himself against her. _What is wrong with me?_ She cried inwardly. "No," she whimpered again, more to herself than to him.

"Wrong answer, pet." He bit her again, on her breast this time, and much harder, as he dug his fingers into her hip. She screamed, trying to push him off, but he clutched her tightly as her skin tore under his mouth.

"I said, do you like that…?"

"Yes, yes," she whimpered.

"Then beg, pet. Beg for more, beg for my cock," he said harshly.

"Please, please."

"Please what?"

"I want you in me, please…." As she spoke the words he pushed inside her in one quick motion, and they both cried out simultaneously. He stilled as soon as he had filled her, and began to smooth the hair back from her damp temples.

"There," he said soothingly. "That wasn't so hard to admit now, was it?"

* * *

Hermione lay motionless on the floor in front of the fire, hating herself and him as she felt his semen run slowly down her thigh to the floor. Snape had tenderly kissed the marks he had left on her skin, before beginning to thrust into her again, later lifting her legs to push deeper into her. The new position had hit a certain spot inside her as she lay unprotesting under him. She had felt something start to build inside her, and had closed her eyes, lost in the sensation.

It hadn't been long before he had jerked suddenly above her, his legs twitching, a low groan in his throat as he came. He had ignited the need in her, and again had left her unfulfilled and wanting more.

As he pulled himself out of her to roll on his back beside her she made a soft noise at the back of her throat. Snape lifted his head to look at her, turning onto his side and brushing his fingers possessively over her bruised breasts and down her side.

"What's the matter, pet? Didn't you enjoy yourself?"

"Yes," she replied woodenly.

"Little liar," he whispered, almost fondly. "You want more, don't you?" She only looked at him, afraid to say the word, afraid that he might hear that she actually meant it. The throbbing between her legs was painful, and if it wasn't for his presence she knew she would have used to own fingers to finish what he had started.

Hermione gasped as his wandering fingers dipped lowly, brushing over her mound, and perversely she longed for them to go lower still. His hand gently pushed her legs apart, and he ran his fingers up and down her inner thigh, getting progressively closer to where she wanted them, and at the last second pulling away. She moaned with need.

"Do you want this…? Tell me…" he commanded.

She gave up the last of her dignity. "Yes…please," she begged again, meaning it this time. In response he brought his fingers up to her sex. At his soft touch on her aching clitoris she buckled, pushing herself into his hand.

Snape chucked darkly, his mouth nibbling gently at her shoulder. "You like that, pet?"

"Yes," she moaned, "Please…"

He stroked her gently, occasionally dipping his fingers into her wet crease and spreading the moisture over her bud with his thumb. Hermione's fingers clutched at the rug under her, her back arching in rhythm with the finger that pumped into her slowly. The throbbing feeling increased, obliterating all her other sense, building inexorably towards a peak.

She was close to the edge when his fingers left her suddenly, and she wailed at the loss, her hips writhing, thighs rubbing against each other, trying to recapture the feeling and panting with need. He stilled her frantic movements with a firm hand on her hips, and she looked up at him, still breathing heavily.

"Why?" she asked pleasingly.

"Because you haven't earned it yet, my pet. You'll have to work harder to please me if you wish to be rewarded." He rolled away from her as she lay there, paralysed with her want. He pulled himself to him feet, and padded over to the bed, grabbing a vial from the drawers next to it and returning to her.

Snape grabbed his wand off the armchair saying, "Get up. Hold out your hands." When she did he muttered a charm, which shot out of his wand and wrapped around her hands, fading into her skin. "Don't think about finishing yourself off," his eyes darkened as he spoke. "That… pleasure belongs only to me."

He then thrust the vial at her. "Drink it girl, and get out. You aren't needed again tonight, so get back to your room." His tone had quickly changed from its earlier teasing cadence and was now harsh and bitter. He looked down at her with a hate and disgust she could not understand, and she wondered what she had done for his mood to chance so dramatically.

Timidly she grasped the potion, and swallowed it quickly. Handing the empty vial back to him she turned and fled, running straight back to her room without even pausing to grab her dress. She threw herself face down on the bed and sobbed, unsure of who she detested more, Snape or herself.

* * *

When Hermione woke up the next morning she felt strangely numb inside, the anger and hatred she had felt muted.

She rolled over, finding that she had somehow managed to wriggle under the cover sometime during the night. She was also surprised to see her dress draped over the chair next to the bed and she wondered how it had got there. The hairbrush Snape had given her and which she had abandoned in his room the previous night now lay next to her pillow.

* * *

 

The room was cold and dark, as were all the rooms she had been in at the Malfoy's manor. Unlike the others, however, this room was small and quiet, away from the busier parts of the house. Hermione lay sprawled on the floor between the two men who sat in chairs on either side of the empty fireplace.

She had been left exhausted and barely conscious by Voldemort, who had searched her mind once again for any sign of Harry. He had also pawed eagerly through the memories of the past week. He had enjoyed seeing the hate and anguish she had felt, and she had heard his laughter in her mind as Snape had forced himself on her, before making her beg for more.

"You seem to be going soft, Severus. You've been allowing her a few liberties."

"My Lord?"

"It was a rather sweet scene between the two of you last night. You even gave her a present. Are you… growing attached to your little pet, Severus?"

"Not at all my Lord. I have several reasons, most of which I would prefer to discuss out of the mudblood's hearing. I would hate to have a repeat of the problem last week, especially considering how she reacted to the correction."

Indeed. You will have to investigate why she is having these… lapses. If you find the cause it may help in retrieving her missing memories concerning the boy."

"I will look into it immediately, my Lord."

Hermione heard Voldemort rise from his chair, Snape following him. The former stepped in front of her, pushing her head to the side so he could see her face.

"And the other reasons?"

"Reasons, my Lord?"

They both began to move towards the door.

"The ones you don't mind discussing in front of the mudblood."

The door creaked open.

"Just one, My Lord. She was beginning to look so… abominable. I was having… difficulty… enjoying her charms."

Voldemort cackled loudly, the sound fading away as the door closed behind them. Hermione lay still, tears trickling down her cheeks.

* * *

"You have been showing the girl more care than I understand, Severus. I assume you will explain yourself, now she can no longer hear.

"It is simply a matter of manipulating her into trusting me, my Lord."

"I don't think that having her against her will will endear you to her particularly."

"She is far too discerning for me to pretend to be her friend, and she will not respond to offers of power. It is a matter of approaching her in many different ways so as to leave her confused and wondering what to expect from me next. She was grateful for the hairbrush and the… kindness" his lip curled slightly at the thought. "She will be eager for more. She also knows that she will be punished for any infractions and misbehaviour. I have observed over the past years that she dislikes being in trouble for any reason, and therefore will constantly try to please me."

"And the little tender scene last night?"

"An opportunity. I had not expected her to react so strongly to my injuries so I took advantage. I believe I made a lot of progress with her."

He paused, but the Dark Lord just waved for him to continue.

She has a natural urge to save and protect, which overcame her dislike for me. She has been feeling sexually attracted to me for a while now, and last night was another chance for her to realise this." He smirked mirthlessly.

The Dark Lord laughed. "Yes, I saw that particular memory also. She does enjoy herself in the bath, doesn't she?" Snape frowned slightly, but he quickly wiped the expression from his face. The Dark Lord continued. "She was quite embarrassed when I found it. Such a naughty little mudblood, to entertain such dirty thoughts about her hated Slytherin professor."

"It does make things slightly easier, my Lord. I have brought her close to climax a couple of times, as she is becoming quite frustrated. I will continue to delay her gratification until she earns it."

"I am pleased with your efforts on that front, Severus. It expect she will soon be begging to please you. I assume you have a plan for when she gets to that stage."

"Some ideas, my Lord. It will depend on the girl. It is inadvisable to stick to a predetermined course of action when dealing with manipulating someone's mind this way. I must see what course of actions is best at the time."

"Very well, continue as you see fit, for now. I will look forward to the entertainment next time you bring her. It will not be for two weeks at least as I will be travelling for some time. You are unlikely to be needed, and if you are, do not bring the girl, unless specifically instructed.

"And now, Severus. I want to hear why there has been no progress in restoring the girl's memories. I could not see anything to indicate you even trying this past week. Can you explain why…?

* * *

 

The rain hammered down hard on the balcony as the dark clouds above rolled by. The dismal weather suited the mood of the man brooding under the arch at the top of the stone steps. Lightening occasionally flashed, illumining his stern features and the dreary castle below. His own, personal hell.

He was thinking about the girl again. She was occupying his mind more and more as the days went by, and he wanted desperately to find some way to be rid of her. _This is becoming too dangerous, too complicated. We will be discovered._ But he knew there was no way to get rid of her without ruining everything he had worked for for so long.

He remembered the way she had lay so broken on the floor at his feet earlier. For a fleeting moment he'd been worried that the Dark Lord had pushed her body too far with an extended bout of the Cruciatus curse, and that her heart had given out. He hadn't been happy to find there had been no progress with reclaiming her lost memories. Snape's mouth curled up imperceptibly at one side in satisfaction before disappearing again at the thought of how he had been punished for the same thing an hour later. The fingers at his side twitched slightly with remembered pain.

At least the Dark Lord had been pleased with the progress on the other matter, once he'd had everything pointed out to him, of course. Snape snorted quietly in disgust. There were far better ways to manipulate people than with power and fear. He had had to explain – in an unnecessary amount of detail – all of his actions involving the girl before the Dark Lord had been satisfied. _Not that he really understood, even then._

Snape grimaced at the memory. He was lucky it had been over quickly this evening. He'd been anxious to get back to the girl and make sure someone else hadn't found her. On the walk back he'd decided that a little care and concern wouldn't be too difficult to justify, considering it was likely she had overheard the final comment her had made about her appearance. _Keep her off-balance…_

When he'd returned to the room at the manor where she'd been left, he had found her coiled up in a tight ball and shivering, although whether it was from the cold or the fright he wasn't sure. A quiet Incendio had lit the fire quickly and he had then scooped her up into his arms, and sat with her curled up in his lap while he rubbed some warmth back into her limbs. After ten minutes she had warmed up enough to come round a little, and she had opened her eyes, staring up at him with distrust, waiting for the catch. His fingers had moved to her hair. He had stroked it gently and rhythmically until her eyelids had closed again, and she had finally relaxed in his arms.

He'd left soon after that, her sleeping body wrapped safety in his robes, and a sneer ready on his face for anyone who might have seen. However he had managed to get away before it got late and others started arriving for the meeting and no one had spotted him carrying her. Luckily he was excused that meeting, having already reported and been given his instructions.

The girl had barely shifted in his arms as they had apparated back into his chambers, and he'd lain her down to rest for a few hours in her own bed. He'd had to supress the sudden urge to put her in his own bed. _She'd have been more comfortable and warm_. He frowned at the thought, as a gust of wind send a curtain of rain flying towards him. He dispersed it without thinking and the water hit the wall around him with a loud smack. He didn't hear. _What is wrong with me? Half the time I want to be rid of her, and the rest…_

He brought his mind back to the present with a small shake of his head, He needed to decide whether to wake the girl this evening or let her have a good night's sleep first. Eventually he decided on the former, guessing there was a good chance there was going to be a confrontation, and at least she would be able to sleep the worst of it off before working the next day.

He rubbed his face tiredly in a rare show of emotion, thinking of the agonizing evening that was sure to be in store for him _. It's no less than I deserve_. He sighed gently and turned to go in, once again schooling his face back into its usual mask.

* * *

This time the girl who emerged from the pensieve was angry, her lips pressed tightly together and her eyes burning. When he saw her face he half expected for her to launch herself at him, but she visibly reined herself in before coming to stand in front of him, hands clenched in fists at her sides, and a tight look of restraint on her face.

"Why… sir? She spoke bitterly.

"Because it is necessary, Miss Granger," was his only response.

She stared at him for a few moments, waiting for him to elaborate, and when she realised no further explanations were forthcoming, she turned on her heel and stalked out of the office. Snape tried to pretend he hadn't seen the shimmer of tears in her eyes as she had fled.

"Severus, you know she deserves a better explanation than that," came a voice from the wall behind him.

"She is not the only one suffering, Albus, as well you know." Snape ignored any further mutterings and turned his attention to the pile of parchment before him.

An hour later, having given up on getting anything done, Snape leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. He knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate until he had spoken to the girl. "Tiggy," he called. A diminutive house elf popped into existence beside him, wringing her hands anxiously.

"What can I get for sir?" she squeaked.

"Bring us both something to eat. Something warming. Serve it in my library." He assumed that was where the girl had gone.

"Tiggy is happy to serve." She vanished with a small pop, but he had already pushed his chair back and was making his way towards his chambers, the elf forgotten.

Surprisingly she wasn't in his library. Snape found her in the corner of the kitchen, staring desolately at nothing, her chin on her knees. He could see she had been crying hard, but the tears had dried up long ago. Snape stopped in front of her, holding out his hand. She peered up at him suspiciously, but didn't take it. "Miss Granger, I have ordered dinner to be served in the library, and once you have eaten we can discuss what you wish to know." Her face brightened slightly at the thought.

She grabbed his hand and pulled herself up, but didn't let go, instead stepping towards him and looking into his eyes. "It's alright, you don't need to explain anything. I understand… you do what you have to do… to protect us both. "

Snape started back down at the girl pressing herself against him. _How can she be so forgiving?_ He opened his mouth to reply, but realised he couldn't agree with her. He wanted… no he _needed_ for her to understand. When he told her so she just smiled gently up and him and nodded sadly in acquiescence.

* * *

(Some time later)

"Obliviate!"


	14. Chapter 14

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

* * *

Hermione woke up in her bed, disorientated. How had she got back from the Manor? The last thing she remembered was Snape cradling her in his arms, looking down at her strangely. She couldn't believe she'd been able to fall asleep like that. How had he got her back here?

She lifted her head to look around her room. The light was on, and she felt well rested, so she guessed that it was probably Saturday morning, and that Snape would be in any moment to let her out. She was still dressed, thank Merlin, so she quickly crawled out of bed and gave her hair a quick brush. It wasn't as knotted as she had feared after the previous night. Her fingers automatically separated the strands for braiding before she remembered.

Nervously she patted her hair down and went to wait by the door. Ten minutes later he hadn't come. Not again. Hermione waited another five before she went to the door, gently grabbing the handle and twisting. To her surprise it turned and the door swung open. _What is going on?_ She padded cautiously down the hall, looking first into the bedroom and then down to the library as the two most likely places to find him. Both were empty.

Hermione quickly checked the bathroom and kitchen. Empty too. So he was either in his lab or had left his chambers. _Something is wrong._ But what could she do? She decided to get on with her day as usual, figuring that if he turned up and all way fine then he would be angry if she had been sitting around doing nothing. The kitchen clock read 8.15. _Why did he let me sleep in late?_

She wasn't hungry herself, but she decided to root out some eggs and bread just in case he appeared wanting to know where his breakfast was. It would be completely in character for him to blame her for not having something ready when she didn't know what was happening.

Hermione pulled at her dress uncomfortably. It felt dirty and looked rumpled after having slept in it, and she knew she would have to wash it to keep up with Snape's new standards of appearance. It would have to be done immediately if there was any chance of having it dry before he came back in the evening. She went to the bathroom to grab a towel to wear instead. Pulling her dress off over her head she quickly wrapped the towel around her and dumped it in the warm water of the kitchen sink. She hated hand-washing. Might as well see if there is any of his stuff to do. _Get it all done at once._

Walking back down the hall she pushed open Snape's bedroom door, and stopped suddenly. Snape was in there, his back to the door as he shrugged out of a stained white shirt. It was the first time she had seen him with his shirt completely off, and she was surprised at just how thin he really was. His voluminous robes and intimidating demeanour hid his gaunt figure.

Despite her recent experiences with his body she hadn't realised what he was like underneath his clothes. He was a lot stronger than he actually looked, and she had been distracted by other things when he had been laying in between her legs in the bath to think about how underweight he was. _Like how bloody heavy he was to hold up_. His skin hung off his frame slightly as if he had lost a lot of weight fairly recently. The sight made her want to sit him down and stuff him with as much food as she could find.

He had now turned slightly, and she could see him frowning down in irritation at the mess on his shirt. She squeaked as he suddenly noticed her out of the corner of his eye and spun to face her, his scowl deepening into an angry glare. She dropped her eyes to the floor quickly, embarrassed at being caught staring.

Hermione backed out of the doorway slowly, but before she had gone too far he growled, "Stay right where you are, girl." She stopped, keeping her eyes down. She could just see his feet move further away from her, before returning a minute later to stop in front of her. "Look at me," he hissed angrily. She lifted her eyes to his face, but dared not meet his eyes. He had thrown his coat on quickly. _How did he get all those buttons done up so fast?_

"What were you doing? Why did you come in here?"

"I… I… wanted to see if you had anything that needed washing, sir," she stammered, finally looking directly at him.

He narrowed his eyes, searching hers for a hint of untruth. Hermione felt him pushing slightly into her head, searching for the lie. She didn't understand why he was so upset. It wasn't like she wasn't allowed in his bedroom. _What is his problem?_ Scanning her memories he could quickly see she meant what she'd said. She sensed a small jolt of surprise flow from Snape when he came to her memory of seeing his naked back.

He pulled out of her head and she quickly thought back over the last few minutes. _What was he surprised? What did he see?_

The corner of Snape's mouth quirked up slightly. Hermione stared. _Is he smiling?_ It was the strangest expression she had ever seen on his face. He lifted his hand to stroke her cheek with his finger, but she barely noticed, as her eyes were still on his lips. "I can see you were just being a good girl, but why are you starting washing so late?"

"Eeerr… late? I've got all day to let it dry. Did you want me to do something else? I've got breakfast ready to cook. I'm sorry I didn't get up on time, but…" He stopped her babbling with a finger on her lips.

"What time do you think it is, pet?" There was definitely a hint of a smile now.

"About eight-thirty am I think," she said with a frown.

He chuckled. "You're only twelve hours off pet. It's evening. You took a long time to recover from the Cruciatus again. It is most… unusual. I will have to try and find out why your body is responding in this way."

Hermione frowned. She'd slept another day away again. What was wrong with her? She'd never heard of others being affected like this by the curse. And what was going on with Snape. He was being… nice. Caring. _There must be a reason_.

The hand on her cheek had started tangling itself in her curly mane while she thought. "Your hair looks much better this way, my pet. I see you remembered what I said about your appearance. Good girls get rewards. I think you could do with a nice, warm bath. Run along and finish washing your dress, then come back here. I have nothing else for you to wash, you won't be able to get that stain out of my shirt without a strong cleaning charm."

She wanted to refuse, but it hadn't been an offer, and she didn't dare disobey when he had told her straight out to do it. Besides the thought of soaking and getting really clean for once was pleasant. _What's the catch? He's obviously getting something out of this._ She said nothing though, and returned to the kitchen to scrub her dress and leave it to dry in front of the range.

When she re-entered his bedroom he was sitting comfortably in a chair by the fire, reading a thick tome. He snapped it shut as soon as he saw her, placing it on the chair as he stood.

"Come, pet," he said ushering her towards his bathroom. "The bath should be almost full by now." Hermione blushed as she was pushed through into the room, the memory of lying in the bath with him a couple of days previously fresh in her memory. Today, the bath was steaming hot, and there was a pleasant smell in the air. Snape leant over and turned off the taps. "Go on then, pet. The water should be just right."

He stood and watched the expression on her face turn to horror as she realised he meant to stay. _I knew he was up to something. Gods, I hate him_. She was frozen, he hands wrapped around the top of her towel. "Do you need a hand with that?" Snape stepped forward, pulling her hands away and unwrapping her gently. She felt like she was blushing right down to her toes as he lazily perused her naked body. "Go on, pet." He pushed her toward the bath.

Hermione climbed in the water quickly to get away from him, wishing vainly for some bubbles to cover herself with. She could feel his eyes on her arse as she stepped over the side and sank into the water, carefully keeping her back to him. There was a rustle of clothes behind her. _Oh Gods, please don't let him be getting in with me._

She tensed, waiting for a splash behind her, but nothing happened for a few moments. The he spoke. "Move back this way pet,"

She looked round in confusion. He had taken off his frock coat to reveal a clean white shirt underneath, the sleeves of which were rolled up above the elbows. He was holding a bar of soap and a cloth. _Please don't do what I think you're about to do._ She didn't move.

"I won't ask again, pet. This is a treat for being a good girl. Don't make me angry now." Hermione turned from him again and slowly scooted back until she was pressed up against the side of the large bath. At the sound of the cloth being dunked in the hot water she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out what he was about to do to her.

She jumped when a warm hand touched her back, but it only pushed on her shoulder gently, encouraging her to lean forwards. Then the warm cloth touched her neck, rubbing carefully in circles over her skin. She bit her lip, struggling to stay where he had put her. The cloth dipped lower. The feeling was actually more than pleasant, and in another situation she would have been able to enjoy it.

Eventually he finished with her back and moved to her shoulders and arms, constantly reapplying soap to the cloth and before scrubbing the next bit of skin. Hermione didn't know how to feel. The warm water and repetitive motion of the cloth was very soothing, but being cleaned so thoroughly by him was disconcerting. It felt more intimate than any way he had touched her so far. The realisation that she was actually enjoying it made her stiffen again.

Snape pulled her shoulders back. "Relax, pet." How in Merlin's name can I relax like this? Her arms were done, and he hooked his arm around her and began to rub the cloth down her front, circling over her breasts gently and down her stomach, even lifting her arms to wash underneath. He face continued to heat. Hermione felt completely humiliated by his tender ministrations. Was he going to wash every inch of her?

As his hand dipped between her thighs she realised the answer was yes. She squeezed her hands into fists to stop herself from lashing out at him. She had never been so mortified in her life. His face was now visible as he leaned over her shoulder to reach down into the bath. She snuck a carful peek at his expression and was surprised to see no trace of lechery on his face. He looked as interested in her body as he would a pet dog he was grooming. _Am I really that unappealing?_

Despite his seeming lack of interest she was pretty sure she could guess what would happen when she got out of the bath. She chewed her lip as she worried, not even hearing his next words. A tug on her shoulder brought her back out of her musing. "Don't make me turn you around, pet." Realising what he wanted spun round, lifting her arms to cover herself. He raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing, instead lifting each leg out of the water in turn to scrub it, having been unable to reach them before.

The movement tipped her back against the top of the tub, her head and shoulders resting against the edge. The worst part of it over, she was free to observe him as he scrubbed her. He worked methodically down her legs and feet, covering every inch of skin. His face was not quite the usual mask, but was calm and betrayed nothing of his thoughts or intention. He just seemed absorbed in what he was doing. _What_ **is** _he doing? He is being so gentle?_ She just couldn't see why. He didn't need to be. He could do whatever he wanted to her, so why this, why now?

Again, she'd lost track of what he was doing, and it wasn't until he pulled back from her, putting the cloth on the side of the bath, did she realise he had finished. "Get your hair wet then put your back to me again, pet," he said. Hermione did as told as quickly as possible, aware that he could see everything through the water. Once she was sitting as instructed she felt his hands running through her hair, and a herbal smell assaulted her. _He's washing my hair_ , she thought incredulously _. I didn't realise he knew what shampoo even was._

It felt heavenly to have her hair washed for her, and without realising she had relaxed and sunk down a bit further into the bath. Snape rinsed her hair out with a cup, and then put something else on before washing that out too. _Gods, I hope that was conditioner_. She didn't want to think what her hair was going to be like without it once it dries.

"We're finished, pet. Time to get out." Hermione swallowed as she eyes met his. _Time to find out what he expects back for all this_. Snape grabbed a large towel that lay across some heated pipes. Slowly Hermione rose out of the bath, trying unsuccessfully to cover herself. He watched her unabashedly, holding out the towel for her to step into.

When she did, he wrapped it quickly around her, pulling her into him and rubbing gently to dry her as if she were a small child. Hermione just stood there with a bewildered look on her face and let him continue. She wished more than anything at that moment to be able to perform Legelimency, and read his mind to understand his motivations.

Snape suddenly stepped back and pulled out his wand from a back pocket. Hermione stiffened but didn't move. Without a word he charmed her hair dry, and it poofed out instantly in a halo around her head. She just caught the smirk that flashed across his face. Touching it carefully she was surprised to feel that it was softer than usual. Maybe once she'd had a chance to run her brush through it it wouldn't look too bad.

Snape pulled the towel from her, leaving her shivering in the air that suddenly seemed very cold. Her eyes dropped to the floor, sure of what was about to happen.

She flinched when he turned back to her, but he only covered her in a dry towel and pushed her out into his bedroom. Her stomach dropped and her hands began to shake as they drew close to the bed. He pushed her around to the far side of the bed, pulling back the covers and indicating that he wanted her to get in.

Hermione climbed up nervously, clutching her towel to her as she slid her legs under the cool sheets and lay down. Snape pulled up the covers over her gently and made no attempt to take away the towel. He ran his fingers down her cheek again as she looked up at him breathlessly. When he turned away she closed her eyes, not wanting to see him undress and get in beside her.

The lights in the room suddenly dimmed and her eyes shot open again, looking round for him. She heard the door to his lab click shut quietly and realised he had left the room. _What the hell is he playing at?_

When he hadn't returned an hour later she began to relax. Her mind fought to stay awake just in case he did, as she replayed everything that had happened over and over in order to gain some understanding. Eventually it lost the battle and she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

When she woke the next morning she could see the imprint of his body in the sheets on the other side, but he was nowhere to be seen. She had a vague memory of turning over sometime in the night and pressing herself up against a warm body. _But I thought he wanted… I don't understand._

Confused, she stretched out a hand. The sheets were cool, so he must have been gone a while. What time is it? There was no clock in his room but Hermione decided that if Snape had got up she better too. Pulling back the sheets she realised that sometime during the night she had kicked off her towel. _Oh Gods, please tell me I wasn't naked when I cuddled him._

Hermione picked up her towel from where it had fallen on the floor and wrapped it around her. She didn't want to stay in his bedroom a moment longer. She went straight to the kitchen, and finding her dress dry, put it on. The kitchen clock told her that it was just after 7. _He didn't wake me again._ He'd not left her much time to get breakfast ready, so she quickly ran round the kitchen, preparing a hot breakfast as fast as she could.

Fifteen minutes later, with a tray balanced in one hand, she pushed open the door of the library. He wasn't there. That's funny. He always eats in here. She cleared a space on the crowded desk and left the tray there while she went in search of him.

He wasn't in any of the rooms. She had even banged on the door of his lab to no avail. _Why do I hate it so much when he isn't where he is supposed to be?_ She sat down on the bed heavily, trying to convince herself it was just because she didn't like the thought of getting stuck in his rooms if something had happened.

Deciding that she was too hungry to sit around any longer for him, she went back to the kitchen and made some food for herself. Eating made her feel a bit less jittery, and she decided to continue her day as normal to take her mind off Snape. It didn't work. While scrubbing the floors she was thinking about the way he had gently cleaned her body. As she tidied the library, running her fingers longingly over the books she was careful not to read, she thought about the way his fingers had run over her body, teasing her close to climax. Heat flared through her body, and she pulled her hands away, as if burned.

Despite her lack of concentration she managed to finish everything before midday. There just wasn't that much to do. She wasn't sure whether or not to expect Snape at lunchtime, but decided it would be better to be prepared than risk his ire. She had made the right decision, for half an hour later she heard the door to the study bang and footsteps pass the kitchen door. Does that man not know how to open a door without slamming it?

She served up his lunch, carrying it to him where he was waiting as normal in the library. Walking down the corridor she grew nervous, thinking about what had happened every time Snape had strayed from his usual routine. But when she entered the room he was sitting quietly, reading a book as if nothing were amiss.

Hermione hovered over him once she had set his tray down, wishing she could ask where he had been that morning, yet knowing what would happen if she did.

"Stop fidgeting, girl." He hadn't looked up at her yet, his eyes on his book. He raised a hand to motion her to move back and kneel and she obeyed. He ignored both her and the food for a while before eventually setting down the book and pulling the tray in front of him. "Eyes on the floor, girl. I had my fill of being examine while eating this morning."

Hermione frowned as she lowered her eyes, not understanding his comment. Snape seemed tetchy today. He seemed a completely different person than the night before _._ She waited in silence while he ate, her legs going slowly numb under her. When Snape had finished eating he pushed the tray to one side, opening his book again and laying it down in front of him.

"You have finished your work?"

She was sure he still hadn't looked at her _. Did I do something wrong?_

"Yes, sir."

"Do it again."

"Wha….?" She bit down on her retort, covering her mouth with one hand.

Luckily, he seemed to have ignored her outburst.

"There will be no need to you to make dinner this evening. Once you have finished your chores you will return to the exact spot you are in now. We have work to do this evening."

"Yes, Sir." More work? What does he want now?

"Take the tray and get out," he growled.

Hermione stood, grabbing the tray, and hesitated. She chewed her lip, her mind still on where he had been that morning. Deciding the answer wasn't worth the probable punishment she slowly turned to leave.

"Out with it, girl."

"Sir?" She looked back.

"I can see I will have to put up with your irritating hovering until you ask whatever question is on your mind. Out with it, so I can get some peace."

"I was wondering… where you were this morning. I made breakfast and I was… worried… when you weren't there."

He did look up at her for the first time then. "How… touching." His sneer did not have its usual bite. "But I do remember informing you last week that I take breakfast his the hall on Mondays. Surely someone supposedly as clever as yourself should be able to remember something as simple as that… Now… Out!"

Hermione stood and gaped at him for a few seconds before his last words sunk in, and she left quickly. _Monday… it's not Monday. It's only Sunda_ y! Remembering the marks on her wall she went straight to her bedroom, putting the tray down inside the door and pulling the pillow on her bed away from the wall. She counted up the marks. The last one she had added was on Friday, not having had a chance to do after she had woken up the night before.

She scratched another two marks, one for the night before and the other for that day. That still only made seven marks since she made the first on Monday. _How can it be Monday?_ She tried to remember what Snape had said when she woke up yesterday? _Only that I had slept for a long time again._ She frowned. He had laughed at her, saying she was off by twelve hours, but he hadn't said anything about the day. _Then if it's Monday…I must have slept for two days, not one… How can I sleep for forty-eight hours? What is wrong with me?_

* * *

Snape leaned back in his chair as the girl ran out. He had caught sight of her confused face as she had left. _What's the matter with her now?_ The concern in her voice when she had asked where he had been was strangely touching. He thought ahead to what he would have to do that evening. She wouldn't be concerned about him if he didn't show up tomorrow morning for breakfast.

 

 


	15. Chapter 15

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

* * *

Hermione knelt on the rug by Snape's desk. Her muscles were cramped and trembling from having been in the same position for getting on for an hour. After telling her to get on her knees again and stay still Snape had ignored her again. Her initial indignation had worn off about thirty minutes ago when she had started to find it difficult to stay still any longer, and she had begun paying attention to staying upright. A little while longer and ached so bad that she didn't think she would be able to move without falling flat on her face. That's when she had started racking her brain's to think of anything but her protesting muscles.

She had pondered the mystery of the missing days first, trying to rack her brains to think of an example of someone suffering either memory loss or extreme exhaustion from the Cruciatus curse. She had read somewhere about several examples of people who had either fallen into comas or taken days to wake up, but in each case the torture had been prolonged and they had either been suffering from ill health due to long term imprisonment, or other hexes had been used as well. She knew her exposure to the curse had been short in comparison each time, and she was in good health – as far as she knew.

Maybe something had happened to her in the last few months. For all she knew she could have been tortured for a long time at some point and her current punishments were only showing up some previous damage. _That doesn't make sense either. Malfoy said they had only captured me that evening. And who else besides Death-eaters would have wanted to hurt me like that? And it still wouldn't explain the memory loss._ Maybe she was ill. For all she knew she could have something seriously wrong with her that she now couldn't remember about.

Her leg spasmed suddenly, and she had to muffle her cry by biting down on her lip. For a few seconds she thought she would topple over but she forced herself to stay upright with everything she had left. She snuck a quick look at Snape from under her eyelashes. She knew he must have heard her moan, but the bastard just turned another page of his book and continued to ignore her. Hermione had the urge to grab it and smack him round the head with it.

She began to fantasise about what she would do to him if given the chance, deciding to start with the least painful hexes and building up slowly to the worst. _Maybe I should put him in a body bind and do what he did to me the other night…_ She smirked evilly at the thought of taking his cock out and working him up to the point of coming over and over without actually letting him come, leaving him begging for more. Not that she could really do such a thing, but it would serve him right.

The thought of what he had done to her made the throb slightly between the legs and she hissed slightly. _Oh Gods, think of something else_. The way his fingers had gently touched her breasts, his warm breath on her skin. _Not that, idiot._ The throbbing was building, and she tried to shift her thighs slightly to assuage the ache. It just made it worse, and with horror she realised her movement had been too much for her aching muscles. A burning pain ran down both legs and with a cry she overbalanced and fell to the floor. _Oh shit…_

Snape didn't react straight away, and she lay sprawled on the floor for a few seconds, wiggling her feet carefully up and down, trying to restore some feeling back in her legs. Then, with a sigh he slammed the book shut. "I thought you were told to stay still, girl. Do you not know how to follow simple instructions?"

"Of course I do," Hermione spat, "But I don't know how you can expect me to… to…" She trailed off as Snape stood, his face dark and angry as he loomed over her.

"You dare to question my orders?" He grabbed her and hauled her upright, one hand in her hair and pulling her towards his face. Her legs wouldn't cooperate and hold her up, so he dragged her towards his chair. She was dumped in front of him as he sat down, one hand still in her hair, pulling her head back to look up at him. "It is time to have another look at those memories. We will deal with your little… outburst later."

Without any more warning he said the word, and was inside her head again. He was far gentler than he had ever been before. She could barely feel him as he flitted though her mind. He methodically sorted through her memories, looking for the gaps, and when he found one she could feel him delicately prodding at the edges, ghostly fingers feeling their way along the ends of what she could remember.

He eventually gave up trying to retrieve the memories after having tried to find his way in from every side and failing. He began to look at the time she had spent with him, lingering over the times he had punished her, or played with her. She could feel him tasting her emotions and reactions to each event, and for the first time since he had entered her head she could feel his emotions, a sense of purpose and determinedness that continually grew.

Forced to endure the pain and humiliation he had caused her over and over Hermione felt her own anger building. What was the purpose of him looking through these memories, except for his own amusement? They were nothing to do with her memory loss, so she could only assume he was enjoying watching her suffer.

The recollection of the way he had almost brought her to orgasm before leaving her hanging only served to bring back the forgotten ache between her legs. There was a sudden burst of curiosity from Snape, and then he was sifting through her memories from school. He kept on dragging memories of himself forward, gently prodding her consciousness to see where the images would take her. He drew her attention all the way back to the speech he had made in her first potions lesson.

Having the memory show to her in such a way was more vivid than normal. In her mind Hermione sighed as his deep, rich voice floated past her. It really was quite a sexy voice, when he wasn't snarling or berating someone. A waft of amusement reached her, and then she was drifting through other memories of potions lessons, lingering on the sound of his voice, and as she grew older, the way her breath had seemed to catch as he had leant close to her to view her potion, the odd tingling in her stomach when his attention had rested directly on her.

Hermione hadn't understood what it had meant until that one night in the girl's dormitories. Noticing her attention was drifting Snape gently nudged her to continue towards that memory. Just before they reached it Hermione suddenly realised where they were going and tried frantically to back away, but he was too adept at manipulating her mind, and they plunged into her recollection of a girly evening discussing the merits of different boys.

The discussion had moved onto the Slytherin boys, and they were trying to decide which of the Slytherin boys would be the best catch, when Lavender had suddenly piped up with Snape's own name. Most of the girls had been shocked, including Hermione, but when Lavender had started justifying herself a number of them had suddenly begun agreeing with some of her points, and occasionally offering their own.

The conversation had moved on to detention with Snape and the best way to remove buttons magically. Hermione had sat silently, agreeing with many of the points, but too embarrassed to join in, having suddenly realised what all those hot flushes and shaking hands in potions were caused by. She had a crush… Oh Gods… And on Snape. Hermione tried to pull out of the memory, but Snape continued to push on, and she was forced to watch with him, her embarrassment growing.

A squeal from Lavender had broken her reverie, and she had tuned back into the discussion to her admitting to the other girls that she'd got herself off more than once while thinking about Snape whispering dirty things in her ears. It lead to a discussion of his voice, one that Hermione wholeheartedly agreed with, even though she had thought the romantic fantasy Lavender described as silly and wholly unrealistic. However the idea of thinking about Snape while she….

Hermione was mentally kicking and screaming in rage at this point of the memory, trying desperately to shake Snape's concentration, but he ignored her fury and pulled on the thread of the connecting memory. Oh Gods, NO! Anything but this! She was relaxing in the bath, thinking about the conversation a few nights ago, and wondering what it would be like… Her hands slipped down over her breasts, rubbing her nipples to stiff points. One hand drifted lower as her eyes closed and she imagined they were his hands running over her skin, his breath on her neck.

Her fingers slid between her legs, running up and down the length of her outer lips, caressing her clitoris gently. She could hear him in her head, reciting some lecture. The words didn't matter, the sound of his voice was enough. Slowly she pushed into herself, making lazy circles with her finger until her walls relaxed and she felt herself getting wet.

She pushed in a second, and soon a third, pumping back and forth slowly. Her other hand moved down from her breasts to rub her clitoris as she began to moan and push against the fingers within her. The combination of his voice and the fingers were bringing her quickly towards orgasm. His words were becoming clearer and she arched her back as the fingers pushed deeper than before. She could feel him over her, his breath at her neck, his mouth caressing her skin. "Hermione…."

Her eyes shot open. _That wasn't my memory._ The feeling between her legs was still growing, and it took her a few moments to realise that Snape was no longer in her mind. The world spun for a few seconds as the effects of the prolonged Legilimency wore off, and suddenly she realised she was lying on the floor. Snape was just pulling away from her, and abruptly the wonderful sensations began to ebb, and she moaned with the loss of his fingers.

"You bastard," she cried. All the suppressed anger in her burst free and she threw herself at him, catching him in the face and clawing his neck before he realised what was happening. He quickly threw he off, his job made easier by the fact that her legs were still weak from earlier. Quickly he had her pinned to the floor, sitting on her chest and holding her arms down with his legs. She continued to writhe beneath him and spat up at him, kicking her legs and trying to reach him with her mouth.

She had never felt so furious. All she could think of was hurting him as much as he had hurt her. "I hate you, you evil wanker! Get off me! You're a sick bastard…" She screamed at him, futilely trying to get free. With difficulty, Snape reached across to the desk, pulling his wand off the top while balancing carefully above her.

"Silencio!" Hermione continued to rail at him, but no words were now audible, and she quickly stopped, putting all her energy instead into unseating him. "Immobulus," he said, and suddenly she couldn't move. With a relieved sigh Snape pushed himself up to his feet. He frowned down at her for a few seconds, before starting to pace back and forth, a look of concentration on his face.

He stopped abruptly, the look of dismay of his face clear to her despite the face she was still laid out on the floor. He strode past her, and she heard him pull open a cupboard somewhere above her head. He growled a quiet curse at what he saw.

Her rage had subsided a little, although she could still feel a great deal of anger and resentment coursing through her at what he had just done. The shame as she remembered her own actions in the memory helped to reduce her anger to a low simmer. She hated him for violating her body in such a way, but she wondered if her own memories had not spurred him on to it that evening. Gods, she was still wet between her legs as a result. _It did feel so good…_

Snape came back into view, his face deathly grim. Something seemed to haunt his eyes as she looked down at her. He studied her intently, noticing that she was no longer struggling against her invisible binds. "I will release you now. If you dare to touch me again in such a way you will regret it." He looked down at her for a few seconds longer before growling, "Finite Incantum."

Immediately Hermione could move again, although she restricted herself to rolling onto her side, away from Snape, to help control the urge to jump up and grab him again. She heard him sigh heavily behind her. "I was going to wait until tomorrow night to begin this, but in consideration, maybe now is an appropriate time to start testing you."

She heard a rustle behind her and a dull thump. Hermione rolled over slowly to see what he was doing. The desk had been moved back against the wall. _Oh no!_ She knew what was coming next. As he turned to face her she flinched from the heat of his gaze.

"Crucio."

 

 

* * *

 

With a flick of his wrist the curse ended. The screams of the girl on the floor died down, replaced with loud sobs as her body trembled and shook with the lingering pain. Snape knelt down beside her, grabbing her head once again and slipping inside her mind again quickly to probe her recent memories to see if she had lost any this time.

His search was futile, her memories intact as he knew they would be, but he had to keep up appearances, for her sake as well as his own. He pulled out and stood again, pacing while her gave her a minute to recover. He had increased the length of the curse each time, from a quick two second burst to fifteen that last time. One more should be enough to satisfy the Dark Lord for tonight, although he knew he would have to do more 'tests' before the next meeting.

Steeling himself, he turned to face her. She was no longer sobbing, chestnut brown eyes watching him accusingly as he lifted his wand towards her. Gods, he hated doing this. He hated that this was necessary. _Damn the stupid girl for getting herself caught,_ he thought for the hundredth time. He took a deep breath, and summoned all his hatred. There was so much of it. "Crucio!"

As the light hit her the girl shrieked and thrashed about on the floor. Her arms and legs twisted as her head whipped back and forth. It was hard to concentrate on holding the curse when all he wanted to do was end it, but he held on tight to the strongest hatred he had, the one that never failed him; his hatred for himself.

When he reached twenty seconds he ended the curse and bend down again to sift through her mind. Her cries ended, though her chest heaved. No sobbing this time. As he grabbed her head to hold her still again she looked up into his eyes. "Why?" she whispered.

He wished he could answer her. _Because I must_. Instead he ignored the imploring eyes that were begging him to confess all and slipped into her mind. He felt her shudder at the intrusion. Before she had come back into his life he hadn't thought he could hate himself any more. He had been so wrong.

A few minutes later Snape pulled back out, and lay her back on the floor to recover. Sitting down in his chair he thought carefully. So the girl was worried that she was ill. The idea had some merit. There were many muggle illnesses that were all but unknown in the wizarding world. If it came down to it he could always offer the idea up as a way to buy time for the girl.

His eyes fell to the girl who was lying motionless on his carpet. Her breathing had steadied and some colour was beginning to return to her cheeks. If only she hadn't been so bloody stubborn she wouldn't have exhausted her body before he even started cursing her. He hadn't meant for her to stay on her knees for so long. Snape had thought she would speak out much earlier, but the determined set of her jaw had told him otherwise, and he had decided to wait until she caved and said something. _Bloody Gryffindor pride._

Snape also hadn't wanted to perform the Cruciatus on her that evening, knowing that she would be tired from the intrusion into her memory. He hadn't planned on her violent reaction to him, but he had known that the Dark Lord would not understand if he hadn't punished her for it immediately. _Another fuck up…_ He'd forgotten to give her the bloody potion the previous evening before wiping her memory. If he had just remembered, then she wouldn't have flown off the handle like that. He gingerly touched the swollen flesh under his right eye. The girl had a strong arm. He smirked at the thought of Draco complaining of the same thing a few years ago.

The whole evening had just been one fuck up after the other. How had he let it go so wrong? He needed to stay in control of the situation, or they were going to get discovered. It was all her fault. She constantly kept him off balance. He'd been about to remind her to take her potion the night before he obliviated her, when she'd bent over and kissed him on his cheek, the same one that was now red and swollen, and whispered her thanks. He had been caught off guard, and had completely forgotten the potion. He hadn't deserved her thanks, but the kiss had warmed his insides slightly, and he had even forgotten himself so much as to smile slightly at her. She had just laughed softly at him.

His other big mistake had been searching for that damn memory. He'd known about the conversation in the Gryffindor dorms, the thought of it still made him blush, and he'd purposely looked for it this time so he could see what the Dark Lord had been referring to when he had mentioned something about her in a bath. He'd justified looking for it to himself by saying he needed to know in case the Dark Lord mentioned it further, but he knew it was just an excuse to see what she'd been doing while thinking about him.

What he had found had astonished him greatly. The conversation had been bad enough, but the image of her lying in the bath had been more than he could take, and he had been sucked into the memory more strongly than he had intended. He couldn't recall ever having felt another's emotions so fully. For a while he had become her, reaching down to stroke herself gently, feeling the warmth spread between her legs as he had pushed his fingers inside her.

As her orgasm had built he had found himself whispering her name against her neck, and had suddenly come to his senses, realising he had actually pushed her onto the floor and his fingers were moving in and out of her in time with her memory. _Shit! Shit! Shit._

Snape looked down at himself. Just the thought of it and he was rock hard again. He had never experienced anything like that while searching someone's mind. He couldn't believe the girl had actually entertained such thoughts of him. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about it. _Apart from horny as hell._

Snape looked across at the girl again. She still hadn't moved. "Get up, girl," he said as sharply as he could manage. She immediately rolled over and unsteadily got to her feet. He pulled his robes quickly around him, hiding the traces of his erection. "Take your potion." He pointed to the vial he had pulled from the cupboard earlier.

She took it without a word and downed it, putting the empty vial back on the table. He took another from out of a pocket in his robes and handed it to her, indicating that she should take it. She frowned at it in confusion, but didn't question him. As she put the vial down she began to sway on her feet. _That worked fast. She must have been really exhausted._ As she began to fall he quickly stood up to catch her, picking her up in his arms and carrying her to his bedroom.

He tucked her under his sheets carefully, pulling the blankets up to her neck. Her hair fanned out over the pillow in a halo. He stroked it gently. Who would have thought it would be so soft? Snape knew it was probably the wrong thing to do to put her into his bed this evening. But he had an overwhelming urge to hold her in his arms. Whether it was more for her comfort or his own her wasn't sure. _How will I be able to explain this to her._ She had forgiven him before. Would she be able to do so again?

Snape prepared himself for bed, taking a quick shower, where he relieved himself of the pent up frustrations of the day. He desperately tried to think of something else besides the girl as he stroked himself firmly, but he failed utterly, and he had to bit his tongue in an effort to stop himself groaning her name as he came.

Feeling slightly ashamed of himself – he hadn't needed to do that in a long time, he was normally so careful to keep his emotions and needs supressed – he dried himself quickly with his wand and dressed for bed. He was just pulling back the sheets on his side of the bed when he remembered he had agreed to that blasted painting's request to go speak to him after dealing with the girl. Damn! I could do without having to listen to his babbling this evening. He grabbed a robe and slipped out of the bedroom quietly.

As usual the painting in question was dozing. "Albus," Snape called loudly, as he began to pace backward and forwards in front of it. Dumbledore woke with a start and peered down at him. "Severus, my boy, how did it go this evening. You seem rather worked up. Did you do a convincing job of searching her memories?"

"That was the only part of the evening that went to plan." Snape threw himself down in his chair moodily. "I forgot to give her her damn potion last night and completely forgot about it until she attacked me. I was forced to punish her in some way, so I decided I may as well start 'investigating' her memory loss."

"What could have caused Miss Granger to do such a thing?" said the painting, eyeing him up as he ran his fingers across the red lines left by her nails. "You must have done something to provoke her, even without your special calming draught."

Snape reddened. The damn painting was too like the real thing, always seemingly knowing everything. "I don't feel like discussing it," he snapped, unwilling to admit to something so embarrassing. "Now, was there anything else in particular you wanted to talk about?"

"Ah yes. I think it would be a good idea to use the excuse of these 'tests' of her memory to give Miss Granger some time to work on her task. From what I can tell the end is coming soon and she needs as much time as possible."

Snape groaned quietly. "She just had a whole bloody weekend of taking up my whole library and asking her irritating questions. What could she possibly be doing that would take so long?"

"You know I can't tell you that, my boy. You just have to give Miss Granger as much help as she asks of you."

Snape growled uncharitably under his breath. He hated the whole charade, but showing her the memories each time was the worst part of the whole ordeal, waiting anxiously as she viewed both his own painful memories as well as her own. He hated her understanding. "Fine," he huffed. "But since we are running short of time I would suggest only showing her the memories that she needs for her task and you can convince her to trust me." It would cut down on time and have the added benefit of leaving her still slightly mistrustful of him, so he would maybe be spared the constant questioning. "I can only risk another day. We can't afford for the Dark Lord to become suspicious if she loses too much time."

Dumbledore's portrait smiled down at him knowingly. _How the hell does a painting manage to get his eyes to twinkle like that? Meddling old fool!_ He didn't like the feeling that it knew what his real reason for not showing the girl everything were.

"If you insist, Severus," the portrait said finally.

"If that is all, Albus? I would like to get some sleep this evening."

"Yes, my boy, Goodnight!"

Snape only huffed in response, already having turned his back on the painting. He quickly made his way back to his room, climbing into his bed quietly and extinguishing the candles with a flick of his wand. The girl had rolled onto her side while he had been out. Feeling the need to touch her, Snape reached out and gently pulled her back against his chest, knowing the sleeping draught would prevent her from waking. He wrapped his arm around her, and burying his nose in her neck, he fell quickly asleep, comforted by the warmth of the small body he held close to him.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

* * *

 

It was dark and warm when she woke. Something was holding her down and she couldn't move. Where am I? She felt his breath move her hair slightly, and suddenly she realised she was pressed up against him, her face in his neck and an arm flung haphazardly around his waist. His arms were also wrapped around her, their legs entangled. Oh Gods, please tell me he didn't…

If he had forced himself on her again she couldn't remember any of it. The last thing she could recall was falling asleep on his floor while he sat and brooded at his desk. She was sure the testing had been over for the evening. That would suggest she hadn't forgotten anything. But why was she in bed with him… cuddling. And why wasn't it freaking her out. _Why does it feel so… good?_

Reluctantly she tried to pull herself carefully out of his arms, but he stirred slightly and clutched her closer. Pressed even tighter against his chest she began to feel claustrophobic and hot, and suddenly she couldn't bear to stay there a moment longer. She pushed hard against him, not caring if he woke, and tried to drag his arms off her.

It was pitch black in the windowless room, but she knew when he became conscious, for he grabbed her by the arm and held her still, and she felt him motion with his other hand. A candle lit itself, the meagre light enough for her to make out his face tilted down towards hers, his eyes still heavy with sleep, but becoming more aware by the moment.

She was entranced by the gentle expression of his face, his large dark eyes held her captivated as they stared unblinking into hers. Her breath caught as his gaze moved down to her lips and his head moved imperceptibly towards hers. _Oh Gods, he's going to kiss me._ Her eyes fluttered shut and she lifted her lips to his. _I'm kissing him too! What am I doing?_ His arms tightened around her as their lips met in a chaste kiss. _Shit!_

With a strangled cry Hermione pushed at his chest, flinging his arms away and scrambling backwards, falling to the floor in a tangle of limbs. Hermione heard him shift in the bed as she pulled herself to her feet and faced him.

Snape was now sat up, leaning against the headboard, looking at her strangely. "What…what did you do to me…?" Hermione asked breathily.

He stared back at her for a few moments, seemingly lost for words. Eventually he spoke, slowly, as if measuring out his words carefully. "What do you think I've done to you, girl?"

"You've given me something, haven't you? That potion… it's a lust potion. You want me to want you… don't you?"

He didn't deny her last statement, but replied, "I am not giving you a lust potion. Anything you are feeling is entirely your own emotion." He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I don't believe you."

He shrugged. "Why would I bother lying to you? If it was such a potion, your knowledge of it would make no difference on the inevitable outcome. "

She paused at that, looking carefully at him. Something in his face convinced her that he wasn't lying. "Then what are you giving me?"

"A contraceptive."

_Oh!_ She hadn't even thought about the need for that. _Stupid girl, how many times has he had you? You could have been pregnant and not even considered the possibility._

"Have you finished questioning me, girl. Or am I to be allowed some sleep tonight?"

She stared down at him, deep in thought. If it wasn't a lust potion, then it meant that she had kissed him of her own accord. _Why am I feeling like this? I don't want him. I hate him!_ Tears started to shine in her eyes.

He moved down in the bed, throwing back the covers on her side in an invitation for her to get back in. She shook her head, stepping backwards slowly. Who knows what he would think if she willingly got back in the bed with him. She knew from his expression that she had wanted to kiss him. He'll think I want more… No!

She ran from the room with a wail, the tears that had been gathering in her eyes finally spilling over and running down her cheeks. She flew into her room, slamming the door shut behind her, and threw herself on her bed, sobbing her heart out.

* * *

Hermione woke when the room began to brighten. Her head was heavy and the skin on her face clammy from crying. She had drifted off into an uneasy sleep only after an hour or so of weeping and berating herself for the unwanted emotions she was at a complete loss to understand.

Her dreams had been full of him. In some she had run from him through a maze of endless rooms. He had always caught her, pressing her fiercely up against the wall or the floor and pressing his mouth to hers, taking what he wanted as she writhed in his grasp. In some dreams he had stood above her, laughing as she screamed in agony. In others she had sought him out, gently pressing her hand to his face and begging him to take her. She had kissed him, and he had been shocked and unwilling, but had eventually returned her affections, wrapping her in his arms and making love to her.

_But what does it mean?_ She felt exhausted from tossing and turning all night, trying to rid her sleeping mind of him. She was going to be useless all day today. Hopefully he wouldn't require much of her, since she had cleaned everything twice the day before. _Fat chance of that_. And what of his tests? She was sure he had meant to continue them today. _Please let him be too busy to bother!_

Her body was beginning to relax, and her mind was slowly starting to drift towards sleep, so with an effort she pushed herself upright and slowly climbed out of bed. Gods, she felt stiff. Hermione grabbed her hairbrush, pulling it through her tangles as quickly as she could, knowing he would be here any second.

Once her hair was knot-free she stood, smoothing her dress over her thighs. She'd slept in it yet again and it was wrinkly. She was going to have to wash it. Damn! Footsteps approached the door, and she flung herself into a kneeling position, her eyes fixed on the floor, just as the door creaked open.

He stood silently in front of her for a few seconds, before reaching down and hooking a finger under her chin and lifting her face so he could see it. She dared not meet his eyes, for fear he would see her thoughts and dreams.

"Look at me, girl," he growled. "Now!"

She peeked up at him briefly, before quickly looking away again. It had only taken that quick glance to see the anger burning in his eyes. She swallowed, assuming that it meant that she would be punished. But he only let go of her and walked out of the door, leaving it open for her.

"Breakfast, quick," was all he said as he swept out.

 

* * *

 

Snape strode down the hall, his dark robes flowing furiously around him, as students ducked their head and scurried quickly to press themselves against the wall. Even the Slytherins, who up until recently had been the only ones cocky enough to approach him were deterred by his angry scowl.

He was furious with himself, of course, for the unmitigated disaster last night. Hopefully he would be able to salvage something out of it by pretending to the Dark Lord that it had all been part of the plan, and that the girl had responded well. The way she had reached up to kiss him back, for example… he lost his train of thought, drowning for a moment in the memory of the way her chestnut eyes had looked as she had lifted her head towards his, and the flood of heat that had coursed through his at the thought that she had wanted him.

The look on her face as she had come to her senses, the disgust at kissing him, had hit him like a cold shower. How could he have thought for one moment she had wanted it? He was a monster that was manipulating her mind, and he had been stupid enough to fall for his own deception for a moment. _What was I thinking?_ It was best if he backed off the girl for a while, except only to do what he must.

He knew that the Dark Lord would see that damned kiss, as well as the entire evening in her head, and he would likely want to understand Snape's reasoning behind the unusual events. He was worried. It was harder to fake or hide emotion than images when practising Occlumency, and he honestly didn't know what he had been feeling the previous night, except that he had needed her, and had wanted to kiss her. _Damn!_ He was going to have to be extra careful and prepare in advance for the next meeting. He snarled grimly, scattering a small group of students who had been passing the other way as quickly as possible without running.

As Snape rounded a corner a small first year with her nose in a book scurried round. _Now who does that remind me of?_ he thought wryly. She barged straight into him, and bounced off, hitting the floor with a thump. Damn stupid child. She should know better than to walk around like that!

"Report to Professor McGonagall this evening for detention," he hissed angrily. "Make sure she knows you are to be punished severely so that you learn not to stroll around the corridors knocking people over." _Lucky there was no one else to see._ The first year gaped up at him in horror, and stammered out a reply, but Snape had already swept past, the incident already half-forgotten.

He turned down a corridor to see the last of the third years disappearing into the Dark Arts classroom. Disillusioning himself quickly he stepped in behind the last one silently, watching everything carefully. It was as he had been told. McGonagall had come to him just after breakfast to complain about an incident where a couple of Slytherin third years had decided to Crucio a first year Ravenclaw that they had taken a dislike to. They had only managed weak, barely-formed versions of the curse, but the combined efforts had resulted in what was likely to be a prolonged stay in the infirmary, and a letter from the pure-blood parents, who were outraged at their child's condition and threatening to withdraw he from Hogwarts.

Upon questioning the Slytherins it had emerged that Amycus Carrow had been teaching the curse in class and encouraging them to practise outside the classroom in preparation for the practical lesson that would be following today.

Amycus was now at the front of the class, speaking to the students who were standing in two distinct groups, separated by house. "You will pair off, Slytherins versus Gryffindor, to practise the Cruciatus curse on each other. Those who I judge the losers will be punished for their failure… by me. Maybe it will give you a better incentive to do better next time."

_Shit! They were told to restrict this to the older students only. I don't want fights starting in the corridors between the different houses because some stupid third years can't control themselves._

"Begin!" Amycus clapped his hands. The students moved across the room to pair off with each other, the Gryffindors more reluctantly that the Slytherins, knowing that whatever happened they would likely be the ones ending up at the end of the Dark Wizard's wand.

Whit a flick of his wand Snape threw the wooden door open so it banged loudly against the wall, disillusioning himself as he stalked forward, making it appear to the startled students that he had just come in. Striding confidently to the head of the classroom he stood in front of the desk, purposely forcing Amycus to step aside, relinquishing control of his own classroom.

Both sets of students recoiled slightly from him as he turned to face them. He carefully kept the smirk from his face. He knew what he looked like, especially in comparison to the smaller, almost mousey looking wizard. He had a powerful presence that Amycus, no matter how fiercely he terrorised the students, would never have. None of the students had ever seen him lift his wand to punish a student yet they were infinitely more scared of him. Even the man's black robes seemed grey in comparison to his own.

"Please…continue…" he said, extending his hand in invitation to Amycus, who was standing sullenly to one side. "I am here to observe."

Amycus smiled mirthlessly, and quickly ordered the students to begin. They lines up in Paris along the length of the room. "Begin!" The first students to move were the more eager Slytherins, anxious to prove themselves to the two Death-eaters. Their curses were pathetic at best, and lack the intent to make them do any damage. Even after they pulled themselves up off the floor and dusted themselves off the Gryffindors were still reluctant to reciprocate. _Damn Gryffindor pride. They're going to get themselves hurt._

_"_ Not like that, Mr Finagle," Snape snapped suddenly, talking to a sandy-haired boy who was standing uncertainly, pointing his was wand at a smirking Slytherin. He moved round to stand behind the boy, who flinched away from him. The Slytherin opposite was now beginning to look uncertain. Snape bent to whisper in the boy's ear, "You must gather all your hate, boy. I'm sure you have a lot of it." He had to concentrate from recalling the way that dratted girl had pressed up against him under a similar situation. "Focus it carefully on your opponent… and… release…" he crooned.

"Crucio," the boy cried. A light from his wand hit the other boy, and his legs crumpled as he screamed in agony. The curse stuttered out quickly as the Gryffindor recoiled in horror.

"Acceptable," Snape drawled, as the rest of the class looked on in surprise at the sight of the headmaster helping a Gryffindor against his own house. "I believe we know the winner out of this pair, Professor Carrow. You can deal with him once I have gone, I have something I must speak to you about briefly," he said as he moved back towards the front of the room.

With a sideways glance at the students, Amycus joined him by the desk. Turning back towards the students, Snape caught the thoughtful glances that were thrown his way by the Gryffindors, while the Slytherins shot him baleful glares when they thought he wasn't watching.

"Continue," snapped Amycus. The students slowly spun to face each other again. Amycus turned to Snape. "What was that about?" he asked angrily. "You're now favouring blood-traitors over your own?"

"You will watch your tone, Amycus. They need to learn that just because they are Slytherins it does not mean they will have an easy ride. They must be prepared if they wish to join our ranks. Most of them seem to think it is all just a game. They need to understand the price of failure if they are to be strong enough. You do them no favours by mollycoddling them."

"You question my methods? The Dark Lord…"

"… put me in charge of this school, not you. When your methods are ineffective and cause even the pureblood families to threaten to remove their children from our care, yes, I will question them."

"I heard you begged the Dark Lord to go easy on the little brats."

Snape just looked at him, one eyebrow raised.

Amycus sneered, "Do you know what I think?"

"I don't really care."

"I think you're going soft. Trying to protect blood-traitors and mudbloods too. Just what have you been doing with that juicy little slut up in your rooms all this time?"

"Need I remind you that she was given to me for a reason, and also because the Dark Lord trusts me to keep her safe until she is needed? If you wish to understand my reasons for the way things are, then you must ask him. If he does not call my loyalty into question then who are you to?"

They had turned to face each other square on by now, although they had kept their voices low. Even so, all of the students had lowered their wands and were watching them surreptitiously.

"Or perhaps you'd like a chance to prove yourself against me, Amycus? Shall we show the students just who is more proficient in the Dark Arts?"

"Amycus blanched, knowing he was no match for the taller wizard, despite being more powerful than average. "That will not be necessary, Headmaster," he said, stepping back and finally showing Snape some respect.

Snape sneered down at him with contempt. "You will desist in teaching students below Year Six the Unforgivables, as was discussed at the beginning of the year. You have more than enough you can teach the younger years, and I would rather not lose anymore pureblood students from this school due to your inability to follow instructions... If we do continue to lose students, you can be sure the Dark Lord knows who is to blame. "

Snape turned away from him disdainfully, sweeping his robes around him as he strode towards the door. The students watched furtively as he stalked down the room, leaving a furious Amycus glaring balefully after him. Snape ignored them all. _Hopefully he will not call my bluff. If he does… well I'll just have to come up with a more convincing argument than him._

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

 

Snape finally returned to the headmaster's study in time for lunch after having stalked the corridors for a while, burning off some excess energy, and sending several more students to various teachers for detentions. He didn't stop there, unwilling to give the painting of Dumbledore another chance to harass him after their discussion that morning about the girl.

He had told Dumbledore the girl was in no condition to be put through several more bouts of the Cruciatus that day, as she was exhausted and in a bad way. The portrait had been concerned about the waste of time and the fact that the Dark Lord may have found it strange that he had been worried about her well-being, but Snape had insisted, saying that he could find some reason to have put it off.

Snape went straight through to his library, throwing himself down in his armchair with a sigh of relief. So immersed was he in his thoughts that he didn't notice the girl enter quietly until he heard her put the tray on the desk. He was lucky she was a passable cook. She tended to make simpler food than the house elves, but that suited him just fine.

Snape looked up as she turned to face him, her eyes on the floor, waiting anxiously to be dismissed. She looked no better than she had that morning. When he had gone to her room she had been pale and drawn, with dark circles under her eyes and a guarded expression on her face. He had needed to see her eyes, wanting to make sure she was ok. He felt furious with himself for letting the previous night getting so out of hand. The biggest mistake had been putting her in his bed. He should have known better, and now his stupidity was endangering everything he had worked for for so long.

Some of his anger must have been visible, for she had blanched when he had told her to look up at him. He had beaten a hasty retreat before he had jeopardised everything further.

Snape studied her intently now, watching the way she held her arms stiffly at her sides, her hands trembling imperceptibly. She actually looked worse than she had done. Her eyes were red and puffy. She must have been crying recently. He fought to stop his concern showing on his face. He would need to stay away from her for the rest of the day, give her some space and time to recover.

He probably needed the time too. Whatever he had expected when he had woken to find her struggling in his arms, he had not imagined that she would reach up to kiss him. For one moment he'd thought…No..!

Dragging himself desperately out of thoughts which he knew were pointless, he realised that the girl had been standing there for a few minutes, still waiting to be told to leave. She was sneaking occasional worried glances up at him, and what she saw on his face obviously was frightening her again, for she was trembling and clutching at her dress. He realised he was grimacing, although not angry with her, but at himself. He quickly schooled his features into their normal blank mask.

"You may leave."

* * *

Hermione hadn't seen Snape all day, except at mealtimes and first thing in the morning. He had completely ignored her when she had brought in his supper, and she had been as disconcerted by it as she had been by the angry looks she had received that morning and at lunch.

_Why was he so angry?_ Was it because she had run away from him last night. She couldn't think of anything else she might have done wrong, and if she had, they why hadn't she been punished. And had he really expected her to stay there in his arms of her own free will. _He didn't force you to kiss him…_

She was now in her room, curled up in her bed, trying to make sense of the mess her life had become. She had taken him his supper and then quickly eaten hers in the kitchen before getting ready for bed early, having finished all her tasks. She needed a good rest after last night's tossing and turning. And dreams of him.

The dreams where they had made love were almost tangible. She snuggled down under her blanket as she thought about them. They had probably been brought on by Snape searching and finding those particular memories. It was like he had known they were there and had purposely gone after them. _How did he know? …Voldemort! He saw me masturbating in the bath._

He had found the whole thing extremely amusing and had let the memory play out in his entirety. He must have mentioned it to Snape. _Bet they had a good laugh_. Her cheeks blushed with the humiliation again, although there was no one there to see.

But she was sure Voldemort hadn't seen the conversation she had had with the other girls, and Snape had found that one first and used it to get to the other. _So how did he know?_ It was infinitely worse that Snape himself had viewed her in the bath. Things like that were supposed to be private, especially when you came screaming at the thought of you nasty bat-like professor fingering you. _Not that I came last night._

She's been close to coming though. The memory had seemed so real, especially as the Professor in question had actually started doing what she had imagined that night. It had felt so good, right up until the point where she had realised what was happening.

Unbidden, Hermione's fingers started tracing circles over her stomach as she drifted through her memories. One finger came up to rub a hard nipple that was aching for attention. Her thoughts moved back to the dreams she'd had. She'd actually seduced him in most of them, and the outcome had been wholly pleasant, nothing like the real thing, where she'd been left needy and aching.

One hand drifted lower, stroking gently though her curls, and a shudder ran though her. She hadn't pleasured herself for ages, and after having been brought so close to orgasm so many times she realised her body was throbbing with the need to come. It wouldn't take much to send her over the edge.

Her fingers moved lower. All sensation abruptly vanished. _What in Merlin's name?_ She pulled her hand up and suddenly she could feel it again. She touched herself again experimentally. Nothing. It was the strangest feeling, the way her hand went numb when she touched herself between the legs. She wasn't numb down there thought, but strangely she couldn't feel her hands on her skin either. _What is going on?_

All of a sudden she remembered something Snape had said that night in front of the fire; "…that pleasure belongs only to me…" and the charm he had cast on her hands. _What kind of a spell is this?_ She rubbed herself a few more times for good measure. Still nothing. Not that she'd expected otherwise. _Damn him!_ With or without his she had no chance for please, whereas he could take what he wanted from her any time he pleased.

She let out a frustrated growl. Still full of pent up need she ran her hands over her breasts, tugging gently on her nipples. It was only making it worse. As nice as it felt she was never going to come that way, and with a sigh she gave it up. Shifting slightly down the bed to get comfortable she tried to ignore the low thrumming through her body. It was a long time before she was relaxed enough to sleep.

And when she did, she only fell into dreams of him again.

* * *

Snape was sitting quietly in his armchair in front of a roaring fire when he felt the tingle of magic. He'd forgotten having cast that particular charm on the girl until that moment. He grumbled under his breath. It was bad enough trying to supress the memory of her lying beneath him, moaning with pleasure the previous night, but knowing she was touching herself right this moment – or trying to, at any rate – was even more frustrating.

The tingles went on for a minute or so; she was probably trying to figure out what was going on, before they stopped and Snape let out a sigh of relief. He was surprised it had taken her so long to discover what he had done. He would have expected to try bring herself off sooner, considering how many times he had left her high and dry. _Or wet_ , he thought with a smirk that he quickly supressed. _Don't go there._

He knew he wanted to though. The urge to take her and fuck her until she couldn't see straight was so strong. He wanted to make her see he wasn't the monster she though he was. _Like she'd ever let you touch her if she didn't have to._

Tomorrow was just going to be another reason for her to hate him, he thought morosely. It would be a painful experience, for both of them. He was sure she was going to fly off the handle at him at some point. _Not that I don't deserve it._

Snape put down the book that he had been unsuccessfully trying to concentrate on for the past hour or so, deciding to try and get some decent sleep before the next day. He went straight to his bedroom, planning on taking a long cold shower before bed.

* * *

Hermione was ready on her knees when Snape came for her the next morning. Her sleep had been full of dreams, but she felt slightly more rested than the previous day. The door banged open and Snape swished in, his robes flying around him as he came to stand before her.

"You may use the bathroom and then you will go straight to the library and wait there. You may prepare breakfast later. I do not want you making any mess on my carpets."

Oh Gods, she was going to be punished. A sick feeling of anticipation and dread settled in her stomach, and she ran her fingers over the marks on her arm unconsciously. "Yes, Sir."

"That is the incorrect response, girl. I have let you get away with it for too long now and see how you repaid me the other night? You will reflect on your lack of respect for the next hour or so while you take your punishment. Do you understand?

"Yes…Master…" she whispered.

The feet in front of her disappeared, and reluctantly she got to her feet and padded slowly down to the bathroom, emerging a short time later and going to stand outside the library, where she paused for a second. The door was slightly ajar and she could see him, standing in front of one of the open cupboards, where the clink of glass told her he was moving things around.

Hermione pushed at the door and slipped inside, closing it behind her. She knelt in her usual position near the desk. Eventually Snape finished whatever he was doing and turned to face her.

"We will continue the testing now. The punishment for your attack on me two days ago will be dealt with later." He leered down at her. "Today, I will be pushing you until you pass out so we can determine how much of the Cruciatus you can take before you begin to lose memories. Once we have found that I can take the next steps in determining what is causing this."

Hermione felt a rising panic begin to tear at her chest. _Oh Gods, no! This is going to be worse than the other night… I don't want…_

"Crucio!"

Hermione screamed as the light hit her, and she fell to the floor, writhing in agony as the curse tore through her. It seemed to go on for ever, and even when it ended she didn't realise straight away, as the pain lingered for a while, small tendrils of searing heat shooting along her nerves, making her limbs twitch uncontrollably.

She panted heavily as the pain slowly died away, and her vision cleared enough to see the man who stood over her, unmoved by the agony he had inflicted. He bent down to take her head in his hands, as before, and quickly delved into her memories. She stiffened at the intrusion, still haunted by the last time he had been in her head. She could feel him impatiently bat aside that particular thought, and instead focus on her memories of that morning and the day before.

There was not much to see. Hermione had worked hard all day, trying to keep herself from thinking about the previous night, and it had only been in the afternoon when she had run out of things to occupy her, that she had crumbled and wept heavily, curling up in a corner of the kitchen.

She didn't think there was anything missing, and she almost heaved a sigh of relief until she realised that it meant she would have to suffer another bout of the curse. Snape was still in her mind, checking for gaps, and she could feel nothing but a steely determinations coming from him. _I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!_ She screamed in her mind.

Suddenly he was gone, and she felt him move away again. For a minute or so she lay there as he paced up and down. Then she heard him pause, and she tensed, waiting for the pain.

"Crucio!"

Again, once the agony began to die away he took her head in his hands and sifted through her memories. They were still undamaged. He paced again, and when he stopped he couldn't hold back the small moan of fear that escaped her lips.

Then the world went black.

* * *

She awoke to find herself laid out in front of the blazing fire, a blanket covering her. Snape sat in one of the armchairs, reading quietly, and when he looked up and saw her awake, an unexpected expression of relief passed across his face.

"How are you feeling, Miss Granger?" he asked politely. She blinked in surprise at the use of her name.

"Like some evil bastard decided to practise the Cruciatus on me," she replied bluntly, before clapping her hand over her mouth in horror at what she had said. She'd be punished yet for speaking to him in such a way.

But Snape just gave her a small tight smile. "I know my apology can hardly make up for what I have done to you, but I give it anyway. I know all too well the agony of prolonged exposure to the Cruciatus curse." He fell silent again.

_Who is the person, and where is the real Snape?_ Her brow furrowed in thought. _Is this some sort of trick? What does he want from me?_ She shifted and slowly sat up, looking at him warily.

He smirked at her, reading her confusion all too easily. "I'm afraid you will have to trust me, for now," he said.

Hermione snorted. _Fat chance of that._ "That's not going to happen."

Snape just shrugged slightly. "I will take you to speak to someone who can convince you otherwise. I don't expect you to trust me on my own word alone. But first, food has been prepared for you." He waved his hand, and Hermione turned her head just in time to see a plate appear on his desk.

She cautiously got up and approached the food that he had conjured. It was piled high with warm bread, cheeses and fruit. She was suddenly very hungry. She'd only been eating small amounts of what she'd been serving Snape, and there had been little in the way of fresh food to cook. She reached out a hand to grab an apple, but then something occurred to her, and she snatched her hand away.

"How do I know you've not done something to it? She demanded.

Snape rolled his eyes and got up. "Choose something and give it to me."

She grabbed a slice of bread and cheese, and one of the apples, passing them to him and watching as he took a bite of each. He grimaced in distaste as he ate.

"What's wrong with it?" she asked.

"Nothing," he replied, conjuring a second plate to put the rest on. "I just don't feel like eating anything."

"Did you have breakfast already?" _I thought the house elves weren't allowed anywhere near these rooms…_

"No, but I cannot stomach anything when I…" he trailed off, as he looked up at her, his mouth tightening.

"Oh," she replied, looking away _…when you punish me, that's what you don't want to say._ She lowered herself into the chair behind the desk and pulled the plate towards her, not knowing how to reply to him.

"Did you make this?" she asked.

"No. One of the house elves prepared it and send it up."

Hermione opened her mouth in surprise, but he mistook the motion.

"Don't bother to call, Miss Granger, there is currently only one house elf allowed in here, and she understands why you are here. You will not get any help from her. She only answers to me."

"I wasn't going to call for help," she huffed. "I know you better than to think you would make such a mistake by telling me of a way to escape."

Snape just smirked at her. "In that case, Miss Granger, please help yourself. He went back to his armchair, vanishing his barely touched plate of food with a snap of his fingers as she began to eat.

It was only when she was licking the last of the crumbs of cheese from her fingers that she realised just how ravenous she had been. _That was a lot of food._ Hermione sat back and sighed in contentment.

"If you're finished…" came the droll voice from across the room. She nodded. "Please, follow me."

She stood up and trailed after him, feeling pleasantly full. To her surprise Snape opened the door that lead to the Headmaster's office, and held it open for her to go through. "I will leave you two to talk," he said. "I will be in my lab if you need anything."

"You're not coming with me? She inquired anxiously. Suddenly the thought of meeting someone alone, without his presence besides her, seemed daunting.

He seemed to read the worry in her face, for his softened slightly. "Do not worry, Miss Granger. You will not be harmed. The outer doors and windows are all warded so no one can get in… or out without my permission. You will find what you need on the desk."

She nodded, and cautiously began to walk down the stone steps to where the desk sat in the middle of the rooms. There was no one there.

Frowning she looked around. _What's going on?_

A voice from behind her suddenly spoke up. "Good Morning, Miss Granger." She spun round and looked up at a familiar pair of twinkling blue eyes."

 


	18. Chapter 18

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

 

Hermione sat in the library, pouring over her notes and the books that were spread over Snape's desk. She was busy cross-referencing text from _Magick Moste Evile_ against the same subject in _Secrets of the Darkest Arts._ She had had to ask Snape to lift the wards on both she could read them, and he had arched an eyebrow at her choice of reading material. Thankfully he had not commented, instead waving the books down from one of the higher bookshelves and running his hands over them, muttering quietly. He had then swept out of the room without another word.

Hermione was grateful to be left alone. His presence was confusing her more than normal. She had understood from Dumbledore that she was to trust him, although not with the details of her tasks, but she still didn't understand why she was there, or why Snape had been treating her so badly if he was really on the same side.

Dumbledore had told her that she was usually told more about what was happening, but today there hadn't been time, as she needed to be back to normal by that evening. Even so, she couldn't imagine why Dumbledore would be so accepting of what Snape was doing to her. _Unless he doesn't know…_ She had tried asking him about it, but he had cut her off, asking her for now just to accept his word, and that she would understand later.

She chewed her lip thoughtfully for a few moments and rubbed her aching neck before forcing her mind back to the matter in hand. _I've not got much time_. She had an idea, but she wasn't sure whether it would be allowed. She would have to talk to the both of them.

Looking down at the books before her Hermione sighed. The information was interesting, but it didn't really tell her anything she didn't know already, and certainly nothing useful. She closed both books and set them to one side, pulling Hogwarts, A History in front of her and flipped the pages, looking for one in particular. She needed to find _…. Yes…_

She grabbed another book from the middle of the stack of books beside her, flicking thought it quickly. _Yes_ , she thought. _Got it!_

Her moment of triumph was interrupted by a small pop, as a tiny house elf suddenly appeared besides her, causing Hermione to almost fall off her chair in shock.

"Master is wanting Tiggy to see what Miss would like to eat," she squeaked, wringing her hands fretfully. Hermione wanted desperately to ask if the house elf could help her escape, but she knew Snape would not have allowed the house-elf near her if there had been any chance of doing so.

She thought for a moment. "Do you have any roast beef?"

"Tiggy can make roast beef for Miss."

"Yes please, Tiggy."

"What would Miss like for dessert?"

Ooh dessert… "Some jam sponge and custard please, Tiggy."

"Tiggy is happy to serve Master and Miss." And with a snap she vanished again. Moments later, a small table and two trays appeared next to the desk. Each tray held a steaming plate of beef, potatoes and vegetables, covered with gravy, and a bowl of pudding. Her mouth watered at the smell.

_Two trays…_ She guessed that meant Snape would be joining her. She leaned back in her chair, biting her nails. Dinner with Snape. _Gods this is going to be awkward_.

* * *

Hermione woke up feeling groggy. It took her a couple of seconds to realise she was back in her bed, and a few more before she recalled where she had been before. _Obviously he managed to knock me out again. Wonder whether I've forgotten anything this time._ She rolled over, swung her legs out of bed and sat up. She felt a little stiff. Her neck in particular ached quite badly and she rubbed and stretched her muscles until they eased somewhat.

_How long have I been out this time?_ She debated staying in the room and pretending to be unconscious for longer, but she wasn't tired, so going to sleep wasn't an option, and there was nothing else to do in the empty room besides stare at the walls. Actually that sounds like a far better option than going anywhere near Snape.

However, her curiosity over how long she had been unconscious won out, and she stood and walked over to the door, turning the handle and pulling. It didn't open. Looks like I'll be staring at the wall then. Hermione went back to the bed and sat down, unconsciously tracing her fingers over the scars on her arms. What do I do now?

Spotting her hairbrush by the bed she grabbed it and started working it through her tangled hair. When the knots were out she continued, the rhythmic strokes soothing her. She thought about the boys, wondering where they were and hoping they were safe. The Weaselys… her last memory was of leaving the Burrow on the day of the wedding.

She searched her memories of that day. There were a lot of holes, but she could recall the Kingsley's Patronus arriving in the middle of the party and everyone scattering. She had grabbed her bag and the boys and… she didn't know. _My bag…_ there was something about that bag… she couldn't figure out what. _What the hell happened to me? Why can I remember some things and not others?_

What had happened to everyone else? _Did they all get away? Gods, what if they didn't?_ She'd not heard anything about anyone except Harry and Ron, and suddenly she realised that any of them might be dead, and she would have no clue. Hermione felt queasy at the thought, and spent a few minutes trying to recall anything that anyone might have said that might give her a clue as to what their plans were.

It was probably a good thing that she couldn't remember that either, it was information that could be dangerous, considering that Snape and Voldemort were able to root around in her mind. There was nothing she could do for any of them, either way. Hermione scooted back on the bed, putting her back against the wall, still running the brush through her hair absentmindedly.

She closed her eyes as she continued to run her mind over all her friends from Hogwarts, Lupin, Tonks, other members of the order, her parents… She was glad she could remember obliviating them, and she knew she had sent them away somewhere, but again, she wasn't sure where they had gone. She frowned… the more she thought about it, the more she was realising how specific her memory loss was. It was like someone had plucked out only the bits that could be dangerous to her or her friends. _But who could have done something like that?_

Suddenly the door banged open, and Hermione jumped, banging her head against the wall behind her. Shit! She curled up in pain, rubbing the sore spot as Snape crossed the room to stand in front of her.

"Get up, girl."

His tone was sharp, and despite the ache in her head, Hermione scrambled to obey as quickly as she could. He took a step back to give her room, and as soon as she had found her feet he grabbed her by the front of her neck and pulled her towards him. Hermione's body went rigid as she fought her own impulse to fight back. She didn't want to displease him anymore. She didn't want him to have another reason to hurt her again.

Snape didn't speak again, instead grabbing her head and diving into her mind. He had been in her head so many time by now that the intrusion almost felt natural. He quickly ran through her memory of the latest torture session, before abruptly releasing her and dropping her on the bed.

"It seems you lost a little memory, only a few minutes this time, but you were still unconscious for half a day. I will have to make sure any further punishments fall under the limit of what you can take. I will not have you passing out on me anymore." He stared down at her for a second before sweeping back out of the room. As the door closed the light went out.

Hermione sat in the dark. _Half a day…_ At least it wasn't more this time. She wouldn't need to mark the wall again, she'd done that this morning. Since he had left her there in the dark she guessed it was evening and she was no longer needed that day. She pulled her dress off over her head and settled back into bed.

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	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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The next four days went by quietly. Snape was spending a lot of time in his potions lab, and Hermione had barely seen him, except at mealtimes. She could always feel him watching her carefully when she entered his library, although when she turned to face him his attention would always be elsewhere. He hadn't spoken to her, except to order her to get out of the room, or to take her nightly potion, and the silence was beginning to wear thin.

The following Monday when Snape came to unlock her door, he informed her that he would be out all day, and would only require dinner late that evening. Time had seemed to pass even slower than normal for Hermione that day, and by the time evening came she was utterly bored, having long finishing cleaning and dusting. She had done the job so thoroughly she wondered what she would have to do the following day, and while she had worked she had talked and sung to herself to keep the silence at bay.

The door to the headmaster's study had banged open sometime after eight, and about 20 minutes later she had taken dinner in to him. When she pushed the door open she found Snape pacing furiously up and down in front of the fire. He turned to face her and she blanched at the look on his face. _Oh Gods, I hope he's not pissed off with me_. She'd not seen him so worked up for ages.

Hermione froze in the doorway, tray in hand. Snape continued to pace, but when he noticed he still standing there he finally spoke.

"Stop slouching in the doorway and put the damn tray down."

Hermione scurried over to the desk and put the tray down. She turned towards Snape, head down and eyes on the floor, hoping to be dismissed. No such luck.

"On your knees, girl," he spat.

_Shit, what did I do?_ She quickly knelt by the desk, shaking hard. She realised how complacent she'd got about her situation. The few days of quiet had made her forget just how much danger she was in here. Now, kneeling there in front of him for the first time in days, she felt sick with apprehension. She couldn't think of anything she'd done wrong, she'd been trying so hard to do everything to please him.

He stopped pacing and moved past her to sit at the desk. She heard him pull the tray towards himself and start eating. He mustn't have had much of an appetite, because it was only a minute before he threw his fork down on the plate and sighed heavily. His chair scraped as he pushed it back and stood again. His feet moved to stand in front of her.

"Get up, pet." He spoke more gently than before, although his voice was tight, as if he was suppressing his anger with difficulty.

She got up unsteadily, still looking down. One of his arms snaked around her waist and pulled her closer. Her legs felt shaky and she slumped against him slightly. The fingers of his free hand ran down her cheek and under her chin, lifting it so she looked into his eyes.

"Were you good while I was away today, pet?" She shivered at low and dangerous timbre of his voice.

"Yes… Master." Her voice was barely audible, and she bit her bottom lip nervously, wishing she could pull away from him. He started to stroke the hair at her temple.

"Let's see, shall we… Legilimens…"

She opened herself up eagerly to him, wanting to show him she'd done nothing to earn his anger. It had been days since he'd last punished her, and she wasn't ready for him to do so again. He searched her memories of that day, seeing the care with which she'd completed her work, the effort she'd put into cooking something that he would enjoy. _Good girl_ , she heard in her mind.

He looked further back, over the past few days, watching her as she cleaned and tidied and washed. How lonely she'd been as she'd worked, hour after hour in silence. How bored she was with the lack of conversation and companionship, the desire she felt as she glance at the rows of books in his library. He pulled out quickly, leaving her reeling with his sudden disappearance from her mind.

"I've been neglecting you, pet. I see you've been lonely these past few days." He still held her by the waist with one hand while the other continued to stroke her face. "Did you miss me, pet?"

She didn't know how to respond, knowing the truth would probably only make him angry. His face darkened and he squeezed her tightly with the arms around her waist, as the fingers that were stroking her cheek stilled. "Yes, yes," she breathed as he opened his mouth to speak again. At her words he relaxed his grip and resumed his stroking.

Hermione's chest began to tighten with fear, and it was a good thing he was holding her, for her legs were now shaking so hard she would have slid to the floor otherwise. Snape smirked down at her, feeling her tremble in his arms. He moved backwards, taking her with him, pulling her onto his lap as he sat in his armchair.

He turned her sideways, lifting her legs and placing them over the arm of the chair. Her head he pulled down to his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. His other arm rested across her legs, his hand on her hips. Hermione felt far more frightened by the intimate position than she would have been if he was about to Crucio her. She dreaded what was coming next.

"I'm sorry I've been ignoring you, pet. If I make it up to you, will you forgive me?" The hand at her hip began to smooth the fabric of her dress, as if trying to soothe her. It didn't work, and she trembled in fear at his touch.

She pulled her head away from his shoulder, and looked up at him in surprise. _What new game is this?_ He didn't seem perturbed by her lack of answer this time. Instead, his head came down slowly, and he kissed her. She stiffened as his lips met hers, but didn't pull away. He smirked down at her as his head moved away again.

"You've been a good girl this week, pet. Good girls get rewarded." The hand on her thigh slid down to the hem of her dress and slipped under. Hermione felt as though something was squeezing her sides, she could barely breathe and her limbs seemed to have frozen. _Please…_

Snape's hand slowly traced a pattern on the inside of her thigh, moving gradually higher. His eyes were on hers, and she couldn't look away, trapped like a deer in headlights. No…. Suddenly his fingers touched a particularly sensitive spot close to the juncture of her legs and she shuddered. The movement of her body broke the spell and she struggled in his arms, trying to twist away from him.

He stopped her easily. She hadn't really been trying that hard, perhaps unconsciously understanding what would happen if she didn't do what he wanted. Or maybe you want this… a small voice whispered. "No..." she breathed.

She had been talking to herself, but Snape obviously thought she was addressing him. "Yes, pet. You don't want to be punished now, do you?"

For a moment she weighed up the options in her mind. She thought she may have actually preferred the Cruciatus curse to what he was about to do.

"We can always continue this after your punishment…" he said, reading the expression on her face correctly. She realised it was going to happen either way. There was no point in resisting. "What will it be, pet? Are you going to be a good girl for me?"

She forced herself to lie still in his arms. "Yes, Master."

His grip on her loosened and he began to stroke her hair in a soothing manner. "I am glad, pet. I dislike having to discipline you when you should know better."

He was watching her carefully, and when he saw she wasn't going to bolt, he moved his hand slowly and pulled her dress up, working it up her body and off over her head. He then returned to his fingers back to where they had been before.

As he circled his way back up her inside thigh she tensed up again. She didn't know how to feel. On one hand the thought of what he was about to do abhorred her, but at the same time his fingers were soft and gentle as they moved up, and she could feel a flicker of desire flutter into existence deep in her belly. _What is wrong with you, Hermione?_

By the time his fingers touched her outer lips she was trembling with a mixture of revulsion and need. He ran a finger up and down her slit, before nudging her legs apart slightly. Hermione let out a small cry as he brushed across her clit gently. The hand in her hair fisted, and he pulled, forcing her to turn her head away from him and exposing her neck.

He bent his neck and tasted the sensitive skin in the dip above her collarbone, alternately nibbling and licking at her. The fire inside her began to grow, and she involuntarily moved her head to give him greater access to her as she felt the first traces of liquid begin to pool between her legs.

"That's it, pet. Relax," he whispered, as he used the arm that way wrapped around her shoulders to left her slightly so he could lower his mouth to her breasts. At the same time that she felt the wet heat cover her nipple his finger returned to her clit, circling it carefully as his tongue moved in sync.

A spasm of pleasure ran up her spine and she hissed, pushing herself into his mouth and rubbing herself on his hand. Her need was beginning to drown out the reluctance she felt at letting him touch her so, and as Snape finally pushed a finger into her wet hole she sighed in contentment, letting go of the last of her resistance.

Snape seemed to know exactly what she liked, and very soon she was spiralling upwards on a wave of sensation. He pushed a second finger in as he rubbed her clit with his thumb and continued to lap at her hard nipple. Hermione came quickly, screaming in satisfaction, as the pent up frustration of the last few weeks was finally released. She threw her head back, convulsing in his arms, as the world went out of focus.

As she came down from her high she felt herself pushed to the ground, and before she knew what was happening she was on her back and he was between her legs. Hermione cried out again as she felt him enter her. He thrust fiercely into her, and she writhed under him, her inner muscles still twitching from her orgasm.

It wasn't long before Hermione felt the pleasure start to build again, and she came again shortly before Snape, moaning and arching her back. She felt his rhythm falter as he climaxed, grunting loudly in her ear before collapsing on top of her. He lay like that for a few seconds before rolling off her onto his back, still breathing heavily.

Her mind began to clear as the buzz from her orgasm receded. The heat that had spread through her body with the pleasure he had given her began to cool, and as it did the stark realisation dawned on her. He'd done it again… and she'd enjoyed it. Wanted it… wanted him. _Oh Gods, there must be something wrong with me if I enjoy being raped._

The last of the adrenaline faded from her body, leaving her feeling cold and dirty. Tears began to leak from her eyes and run down her cheeks, and she quickly rolled away from him, not wanting him to see her cry. Too late. He'd seen.

"What's the matter, pet? Didn't you enjoy yourself?"

His gentle tone just made her sob louder. At least it spared her the indignity of having to answer his question positively. She burned with the shame of remembering how she'd pushed herself into his hand, urging him on.

"Why are you crying, pet?" he said as he turned her towards him.

She couldn't answer, still crying hard. He impatiently grabbed her by the chin and delved into her mind. She felt the presence that was him pulse brightly with some strange emotion, and then he was gone from her mind. She looked up at him to see his eyes fill with the same emotion. She recognised it that time. Disgust. _He's disgusted that I enjoyed it_ , she thought.

He leant over, hovering above her, a thick black curtain of hair falling down around his face to hide his expression in shadow. She was thankful, for she could no longer see his eyes. He stroked the side of her face and she closed her eyes against the tender moment.

"You've been such a good girl today."

She hated the flicker of satisfaction that she felt at his praise. She'd yearned for his approval for so many years, and now this was how she finally earned it. As his _whore_.

"Shhh, pet. There's no need to cry." He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her towards him. She gripped his shirt in her hands and buried her face in his chest. She found his warmth strangely comforting, despite her mind telling her that he was the last person she should be turning to for solace.

After a while she eventually relaxed under his gentle hands. As her tears dried up her eyes began to flutter closed, her hands loosening their grip.

"Don't sleep yet, pet," he said quietly, moving away from her. Straight away she missed his warmth, and became aware of how she was sprawled out naked on his floor. He was still dressed in the shirt and trousers he'd been wearing earlier, and as he got to his feet she watched him as he straightened his clothes. She quickly grabbed her discarded dress and pulled it on.

Snape went over to his desk and returned with a small book and a phial of the potion she usually took. He passed her the latter, and she drank it quickly. He vanished the empty phial with a wave as he sat down beside her. They looked at each other for a few moments, Snape looking intently into her eyes. He nodded imperceptibly, as if she'd passed some unknown test and then held the book out to her. She didn't move to take it, instead looking at him in surprise. _What is he doing?_

"Go on, pet. It won't bite." He pushed it towards her, and she took it gingerly. She glanced down at the title, expecting the letters to swim before her eyes. It was an old dog-eared copy of Moste Potente Potions. There was a familiar tear at the top of the leather binding. It was the copy from the Restricted Section in the library. She ran a finger across the letters in confusion. She could read them without her head hurting. Hermione looked up at Snape questioningly. He raised an eyelid and smiled mirthlessly.

"I told you, pet. Good girls get rewarded."

* * *

Snape smirked at her. The look on her face was priceless, her eyes wide and pupils dilated from more than just the effect of the potion. He could almost interpret every question that flashed across her mind, her expressions as easy to read as the book she held. He was amazed she'd actually managed to hold her tongue.

"If you continue to please me, pet, I may let you have a look at my own personal copy." She looked up at him, confused, but again managed to hold back the question she was obviously dying to ask. "You read my copy of Advanced Potion Making last year." He leaned into her slightly. "I never gave up the habit of scribbling my own notes in the margins."

He saw the gleam light up her eyes, and he could have laughed at her predictability. Even after everything she'd been through, offer her the chance for learning something new, or a better way to do a thing and she would jump at the chance. This thirst for knowledge could be dangerous, for her most of all, if he wasn't careful.

"I will give you some time to study the potions fully and once you have had sufficient time I will see how well you have retained the information." Gods, was that a smile on her face? "You will leave the book with me…" Her face crumpled slightly. "…while you take a bath." She relaxed again. "Come back here when you have finished."

He held his hand out for the book, and reluctantly she handed it back to him. She bounced on her toes for a few seconds before he realised she was waiting for him to dismiss her. "Out…" he growled. She scarpered.

Snape left the book on the armchair and went to his desk, vanishing the barely touched tray of food with a wave of his hand. He hadn't been able to touch it at the time, and he still couldn't face eating anything now. _Damn Albus!_ He pulled some papers towards him and settled down to read while he waited for the girl to return.

Sometime later she came tiptoeing back into the room, he eyes falling greedily on the book he'd left in the armchair for her, before flicking towards his worriedly. He nodded his head in permission, and she scurried across the room, grabbing the book and perching on the edge of the seat as she opened it. Snape returned to his work, but watched her occasionally out of the corner of his eye. He was amused to see how quickly she had made herself comfortable, pushing herself back into the chair and pulling her legs up under her, book open on her legs.

She was completely absorbed in her reading, as he knew she would be. Even with the potion she'd seemingly forgotten the events of the previous hour so quickly. The girl was almost too easy to manipulate. He'd been surprised at how quickly she had stopped fighting him and accepted his authority over her. Then again, why shouldn't she have, after all she'd helped him with the potion willingly, and that improved the effectiveness a great deal.

She probably never realise just how lucky she was that he had managed to convince the Dark Lord to let him take her. He watched her scratch the marks on her arm absentmindedly. T _hat's become a habit._ Was she even aware she was doing it? Maybe she did understand something of how fortunate she was to be with him. Maybe that was why she'd been easier to subdue than he'd expected.

She shifted in the chair, stretching her legs for a moment before turning to face the other way and pulling them back up under her. Snape fought the urge to stare at the way the firelight played over the skin that was left uncovered by the sorry excuse for a dress that she wore. _Dammit._ He looked down at his papers, trying to distract himself from the memory of the way she had writhed in his arms as she came.

He could no longer deny that he wanted her, not after the way he had been unable to stop himself pushing her to the floor and taking her the way he had. How awful he'd felt when she had cried. How he'd been unable to resist comforting her, particularly after realising exactly why she was crying. He had expected to see how much she hated him, when instead…

Maybe… if the Dark Lord won… he could be persuaded to let him keep her. She'd be better off with him than anyone else. He glanced back up at her as she turned a page and then reached for a strand of her damp hair, which she pulled into her mouth and chewed on.

For the first time since this whole sorry mess had begun he felt glad that he had been there when she'd first been captured. She'd never have held out long against them. At best she'd be dead, at worst… he shuddered at the thought of what would been done to her, what still might be done if he wasn't careful. As it was, he was pushing the limit of what the Dark Lord would consider acceptable progress with her. She was going to have to prove herself useful somehow, and soon.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Please review and let me know how you think this and the last chapter went. I know they're both sending out a load of mixed signals in these two chapters.

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Hermione woke up with a start. _What was that?_ It was still black in the room, but she was sure something had woken her. She lifted her head off the bed so she could listen carefully. Nothing. It wasn't time to get up or the strange lighting in her room would have started to glow. After a few moments she put her head back down and pulled the blanket tightly around her. She was just on the verge of slipping back into sleep when she heard something.

Her eyes flew open and she turned her head. There it was again. It was strangely muffled and she couldn't tell what it was, but at least she was sure it wasn't in the room with her. She slowly sat up, taking care to be quiet and pulled the blanket off her. Her feet were silent as the touched the floor and she gently padded across the room towards the door, her arms groping blindly in front of her.

It seemed like an age before her fingers finally touched the wall, and she ran her hands over the cold stone first to the right then the left before she found the door frame. The noise came again from the other side of the door. Startled, she took an involuntary step back. She could still hear it, moving past her room, although she still couldn't make out what it sounded like. She cautiously put her ear to the wooden door.

A strange scraping sound, like something being dragged, and then an eerie sibilant murmur could be heard through the wood. As she listened the noises became quieter, until there was silence. _What the fuck was that?_ She continued to listen, and just as she had decided to return to bed there was a low moan from somewhere that resounded peculiarly through her room. _Snape? He sounds like he's hurt._

She hesitated for a moment, not sure if she should go and help him or not. Another cry from outside and she put her hand to the door knob and turned it silently. Surprisingly it opened, and she peered out into the hall. It too was dark, the only light coming from the open door of the library. She'd never seen the hall unlit, and the shadows seemed to reach out to her ominously.

She tried her best to ignore the shiver that ran down her spine as she crept towards the light. There were no more cries now, although the murmuring had begun again. Frightened, she looked wildly around. It had seemed to come from behind her, but to her relief she could see nothing. Her heart was thumping almost painfully in her chest, and she struggled to swallow her fear.

Tentatively, she peeked around the door frame, unsure of her welcome. She gasped, hands flying up to her mouth as she saw the body curled up on the floor in front of the fire in a pool of black robes. She flew in to the room, sinking to her knees beside Snape, ignoring the snake that watched her lazily from the armchair. She grabbed his shoulder and pulled, turning him over.

The sight made her scream in horror. He was completely covered in blood. There was no inch of clean skin that she could see, including the places where his clothes had been ripped to shreds. There were no cuts or gashes that she could see, but his eyes stared sightlessly, his face twisted in a pain-filled grimace.

Hermione scrambled back, trying not to retch. She put one hand down to lever herself up to her feet and touched something sticky. She realised suddenly that she was kneeling not on his robes, but in a large pool of blood that surrounded his body.

She raised her shaking hands in front of her face. They were covered in red, and as she watched it ran down her arms towards her elbow. Disgusted she gave a cry and tried to wipe them on her dress, realising only then that she had never bothered to put it on when she'd left her bed. Her hands came back covered in even more blood than before.

Looking down, Hermione found her entire body was now covered in blood, whether his or hers she didn't know. She screamed again as she felt something touch her leg. The snake was suddenly there, wrapping its appallingly large body around her. She wanted to run, but found she couldn't move. She watched, frozen as it twined itself around her body, its dark eyes glittering malevolently at her.

She could hear the murmuring again, this time from behind her, growing louder by the second. Her heart beat furiously. She couldn't even turn to face what was coming. Again she screamed as something wet touched the back of her neck.

"He thought he could betray me and live," a dangerous hiss sounded in her ear. She knew whose voice it was, she'd never forget it. _Voldemort._ He moved so she could see him as he looked down at Snape. He laughed gleefully. "The traitorous bastard got what he deserved." He spun suddenly to face her, and if she had been able to move she would have recoiled in terror at the look in his eyes.

"And now, my little mudblood, it's your turn…"

"No, no, please, no," she whimpered, shaking her head frantically. The snake had now wrapped its way around her torso and was regarding her silently.

"How did you ever think such a foolish plan would succeed?" Voldemort laughed again. His eyes ran down her naked form appreciatively. "Pity." He shrugged. "Nagini, kill her!"

Hermione screamed again as the snake lunged at her neck, biting into the soft flesh there. She began to struggle, somehow managing to throw her arms out despite the cold coils trapping her. She dug her fingers in as the snake jabbed at her again. The pain felt oddly muted, and everything around her began to spin strangely. She desperately tried to throw the snake off but it just wrapped itself around her arms tighter, pinning her down, and she began to thrash from side to side.

"Miss Granger." It sounded like Snape, but she knew it couldn't be. She lashed out, hitting something warm and substantial in front of her.

"Miss Granger!" She sobbed loudly _. No, he's dead!_ Still she struggled against the restraints around her. "Hermione!" Two hands caught her by the wrists, stopping her mad flailing. _Hands…_ She looked up, startled, into his eyes. Snape! He was alive! Her cries of terror turned into tears of relief and she slumped against him and bawled her eyes out.

Snape wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently. "It was only a dream, Miss Granger." She dug her fingers into the fabric of his dressing gown as she continued to sob, beginning to accept that it hadn't been real. "Are you ok?" Snape asked.

She nodded silently, not yet trusting her voice. _Just a dream... just a dream_ … She couldn't remember ever having had one so frighteningly vivid before. She wasn't sure why Snape was making her feel so safe at this moment, but she wasn't about to question it.

He pushed her back so he could see her face. "What were you dreaming about? You were screaming so loud you probably woke half the castle." He held her face with both hands as he smiled reassuringly down at her.

"I.. It was so... so real," she blubbed, desperate suddenly to tell him everything. When she was little her parents had told her that sharing a bad dream meant it couldn't scare you anymore. She'd stopped believing that long ago, but still, telling someone her dreams always made her feel better. "He told his snake to kill me." She put her hands to her neck, still half expecting to find marks as she recalled her terror as the snake had lunged at her. "You were already dead. He said… he said you were a traitor… that your plan wouldn't have worked."

His face turned serious. "You never had any luck with divination, did you?"

"That pile of old codswallop?" she snorted wetly, not thinking about how odd his question sounded.

The corner of Snape's mouth jerked up slightly, and the expression in his eyes softened, but he just stared down at her without speaking. Hermione was suddenly aware of how she must look, with tears and snot covering her face, her hair a mess. She lifted her hand to wipe at her nose, but Snape's were in the way of her cheeks. He brushed her tears away with the pads of this thumbs as he continued to gaze into her eyes. "Are you all right now?" he inquired in a low, husky voice.

"I think so." She spoke quietly, not pulling her eyes away from his. "I'm glad you're not dead," she whispered.

His eyes widened for a moment, his only reaction to her confession. Strangely enough she meant it, although she wasn't sure why, not after all that he'd put her through. Her eyes never left his, but she was very aware of how the hard cruel face she knew so well was somehow tired and sad. _Lonely._ Snape's eyes were heavy and shadowed, his cheeks gaunt, dark lips slightly parted. His features were striking, and it was easy for her to recall how attractive she had used to find him.

He was looking at her almost wistfully, and slowly their heads moved closer together. _Gods, he's going to kiss me_ , she realised. As her eyes fluttered shut she thought, _I'm going to kiss him too_. Their lips touched, and she froze. _Gods, what am I doing?_ With an inarticulate cry, she pushed herself away from his, out of his arms and against the cold wall behind her, clutching her blanket tightly.

Snape stood, taking a step back from the bed, spreading his hands in a placating gesture. "I am sorry, Miss Granger. That was… inappropriate."

Her jaw dropped open at his apology, before she registered the rest of his words. She clapped her hands over her mouth but couldn't repress her slightly hysterical giggle. "Inappropriate…? If you think that was inappropriate, what do you call last night?" Her tone had become bitter.

To her surprise two bright spots of colour burned high in Snape's cheeks, although the rest of his face seemed more stony that usual. _Is he… embarrassed?_

"The situation this morning is different from yesterday's," he said tightly.

"What? Did you suddenly develop a conscience and decide not to be a traitorous murdering bastard?" she spat.

"That is enough, Miss Granger," he said, visibly restraining his anger.

With a sinking heart she recalled exactly where she was and what he was likely to do to her, considering his words. _But he called you Miss Granger. He doesn't do that_. She sunk back onto the bed, watching him cautiously.

"You will come with me. This was going to wait until later, but since we are both awake and considering the nature of this… discussion, we may as well make a start."

"Start what? Where….? She trailed off. Something was different this morning. He was talking to her and treating her strangely. Wh _at's going on?_

"Didn't I tell you not to ask questions? We have a task to perform today, but first you need to remember," he said opaquely.

Remember…? What…? She opened her mouth to ask another question, but left it unasked as he raised his eyebrow at her. When she closed her mouth again with an irritated huff he smirked at her. _Arrogant bastard._

"Come, Miss Granger," he said harshly. "We have much to do today."

* * *

 

It was just after half six when she emerged from the first memory. "Shit," she said. "That was… _Shit!_ " She crumpled to the floor, head in her hands. "I can't believe it!"

Snape said nothing, but just watched her carefully from behind his desk. She sat quietly on the library floor as her mind processed what she had just seen. "Merlin's balls," she breathed eventually. She looked up at Snape. "You… you never… I mean, I…" She shifted so she was facing him directly. "I'm sor…"

"Don't… don't say it," he snarled.

"But…"

"No, Miss Granger! I do _not_ want to hear it."

She paused a moment, waiting until he relaxed in his chair again. "If everything I just saw is true… then why…? Why….?"

He looked at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Why did you do… it?"

"I've done many things, Miss Granger. To what do you refer precisely?"

She took a deep breath. "Why did you kill him? Professor Dumbledore, I mean?"

Her question was met with stony silence for a few seconds, before Snape stood, turning away from her so she couldn't read the expression on his face.

"Because…" his voice was tortured. "… _he_ asked me to."

"Who? Vol… I mean, You-Know-Who?"

"No, Dumbledore."

_What?_ "But… why?" She was completely flabbergasted. "Why would he want you to do such a thing?"

"The headmaster was dying, Miss Granger." Snape's voice was rough and unsteady, a far cry from his usual measure, elegant drawl. "He would have been dead within a few months at best and he needed a way to ensure me a place as close to the Dark Lord as possible. He wanted to make sure I was trusted as much as possible, so that I was in the best position to hear and relay crucial information."

"But that's…. _horrible_! she cried. "How could he ask you to do something like that? He must have known what everyone would think. All of your… friends… everyone… they all hate you!"

"I am no stranger to that sentiment, Miss Granger, as you are no doubt aware," he spoke bitterly. Abruptly he laughed, the sound ringing hollow in her ears. "It also had the added benefit of ensuing I have no one to turn to, nowhere to go, if I wanted out of his schemes. Albus probably wanted to make sure I didn't give up and run."

"I don't think he would have thought you would do that, Professor."

"Why not?" he spat. "I've thought about it many times, I told him so more than once. You think I want to do this, any of it?" His voice had risen in intensity with each sentence, and he suddenly seemed to realised he was shouting, looming over her angrily as she cowered in the face of his vehemence.

"Do not presume to know me, Miss Granger, just because you know one small thing about me." His voice was soft and he seemed to fold in on himself as he sat down. "Now… are you ready to move on to the next memory of do you wish to eat first?"

He surprised her with the sudden change of topic, and she was quiet for a few seconds before she spoke. "Professor, I have a question…" Snape just snorted but said nothing. "At the end of the memory I just saw, I was about to ask you something, but then the memory ended. Snape shifted, looking uncomfortable. "What happened? What did I ask you? It seemed fairly important to me at the time."

Snape cleared his throat, looking away so as not to meet her eyes. For the second time that day she thought he looked embarrassed. "It is not relevant to what we need to accomplish today."

"But…"

"You will have a chance to see that memory another time, Miss Granger. We have more important things to concern ourselves with today." His tone brooked no argument, and Hermione knew it would be pointless to press him further.

"What about…?"

"What did I tell you about asking questions…?" Snape rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

Hermione glared at him. "The situation is different today, _Professor,_ " she deadpanned, repeating his own words back to him. He just rolled his eyes and didn't answer. "I saw you show me a memory. It convinced me to trust you when you first brought me here. What did I see and are you going to show me it again?"

"That was something I do not wish to share again. I did not wish to show it to you the first time, but it was necessary then."

She hazarded a guess. "Did you show me the memory of Professor Dumbledore asking you to, you know, kill him…?"

"That was part of it, yes."

"Then, why….?"

"No, Miss Granger. I will not discuss this further. Those memories are personal, and they will stay that way. Do not ask me again. Now, do you wish to eat before we continue?" Again he changed the subject before she had a chance to protest.

"No, thank you Professor. I'm not hungry yet."

"Very well. Once you have seen these next memories we will go to my study so you can speak to the painting of Professor Dumbledore. I'm sure you will have some questions that I am unable to answer, and I will arrange for our breakfast then." He got up and stood over the pensieve, removing the first memory with his wand and depositing it back in its phial, and uncorking another and pouring it in. He gestured to her once it was ready.

Hermione stood, moving over to the pensieve. Before she put her face to the silvery liquid she looked up at Snape, who had moved over and was standing beside her. She gently laid a hand on his arm and smiled up at him, then leant down and disappeared into the memories.

* * *

They appeared in the tiny alley with a crack. Hermione untangled her arm from Snape's immediately, and instead he quickly grabbed her hand disillusioning them both quickly.

"Won't someone have heard that? She whispered. "Won't they come to look?"

"There is no one here particularly connected with either side. It is unlikely anyone will be concerned enough to investigate. Most people will be at work in any case," he replied. "Now, this way, I believe." He set off at a brisk pace, pulling her along behind him, away from the small square she had glimpsed at the end of the alley. It felt very odd not be able to see him but to feel him tugging on her arm.

They passed a few more alleys that intersected theirs, pausing at each one, and Hermione assumed Snape was checking to make sure no one was coming, before dragging her across quickly. There was never anyone. She hadn't seen a single soul since arriving, and the village was deathly silent, the absence of sounds sending chilled down her spine.

"Why is it so quiet?" she whispered.

"Use your brains, silly girl. Just because no one here is fighting for either side doesn't mean they are not aware of what's going on. Anyone with any sense will have as many wards up around their homes as possible, and will only leave when they have to. No more questions, Miss Granger."

His grip tightened as they reached the end of the alley. She felt him pause, peering out into the empty space beyond. "Come." They quickly crossed the small dirt path that wound its way around the edge of the small village. Snape was now moving faster than she could walk easily, and he kept tugging on her arm, half dragging her along with him.

The sea loomed in front of them. It had begun to spit, and the cool breeze blowing in front the sea felt incredible on her face. It was a miserable day, but she was enjoying every second of her freedom from the dark chambers back in the castle.

They passed through an empty field that bordered the beach, the grass long and rough, unsuitable even for grazing. The ground beneath their feet quickly gave way to sand as they neared the beach, and she found herself stumbling as it gave way under the plain shows Snape had transfigured for her. From the way he continued to tug on her hand she had to assume he wasn't having the same problems that she was.

"Hang on," she grumbled, pulling at him. He stopped and she took the moment to pull each shoe off and empty it of the sand that had crept in, before replacing them. She'd let go of his hand while she was sorting her shoes, and when she looked up she realised she had no idea where he was.

"Professor?" she called, feeling suddenly very lonely and exposed. She wave her hands out in front of her, connecting eventually with something soft and round. _I'm not sure I want to know what that was._

She heard him sigh. "Here, Miss Granger. He grabbed her hand without any fumbling, _How…?_ and pulled her on, down onto the beach. Luckily the sand was soft and dry, and as they walked along the beach their footprints crumbled into shapeless craters in the sand, indistinguishable from the rest.

Hermione ran into Snape's invisible back as he stopped suddenly. "This should be sufficient." She heard a rustle and then there was a pause. "Expecto Patronum," he whispered, almost reverently.

Hermione gasped as a silvery doe appeared, bounding away and disappearing a little further down the sand. It was the doe she had seen in her own memories. _But that means…. It was Snape that gave us the sword…_ The realisation only strengthened her newly-fledged trust in him. She was sure that she'd heard somewhere that no death-eaters were capable of producing a fully-fledged patronus. That Snape could, obviously showed there was more to him than met the eye. I wonder what his happy memory is, she thought. _He's such a grumpy bastard I wouldn't have guessed he has one strong enough._

Snape spoke again, unaware of her introspection. "I will wait here, Miss Granger. Please memorise the spot. As soon as he appears I will release the concealment on you. Be quick and to the point. I will be unable to move again until he has left or I will risk giving myself away. I do not need to remind you that no one can know that I am here, and you will only give him the information he needs. If he suspects…"

"Yes, I remember," she replied testily. "It's not like you didn't tell me this twenty times already…" she mumbled under her breath. She could almost feel the heat of his glare on her face, but chose instead to look around for some sort of mark to come back to. _There…_ there was a large clump of grass at the back of the beach that stuck out in a funny way.

The doe reappeared suddenly, heading back towards them. The air behind it shimmered, and Harry and Ron materialised. The moment they saw each other all three began to run. They slowed down and stopped a few paces from each other. She realised that both boys had pulled out their wands and were fingering them nervously.

"Hermione, is that really you?" Ron asked eagerly.

"Of course it is, you nitwit," she replied. "I'm so glad to see you both." She moved to hug them, but Harry raised his wand at her, so that she had to stop suddenly.

"Sorry, Hermione," he said, shrugging. "Got to make sure. Tell us something that only you would know about."

Her mind went blank for a moment.

"What did you do to stop Harry from being throw off his broom during his first Quidditch match? asked Ron.

_He couldn't have possibly asked anything else, could he_? She was aware that Snape could very likely be listening to every word. "I… set fire to Snape's robes," she whispered, praying he couldn't hear.

"That's my girl," said Ron, going to hug her.

"No," said Harry, looking at Ron, his wand still pointed at Hermione. "One more. We need to be sure." He looked back at her. "What have we been looking for the past 9 months?"

_Shit, the one question I can't answer, not if_ he _might hear._ "I'm sorry, Harry. I can't say it, not now." Both boys' hands tightened on their wands. She continued quickly, before they got the wrong idea. "But I can say that you found one in our second year, and another with Dumbledore, the night that he… ummm… died."

Ron glanced at Harry, and took his cue from him when he relaxed, putting away his wand and smiling sheepishly at her. Hermione threw herself at the two boys, wrapping her arms around the both of them, and they responded warmly.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, what happened to you?"

"Where have you been? We thought Voldemort still had you."

Both boys spoke at the same time. She pulled back slightly so she could see the two of them, and they all looked at each other and laughed.

"Gods, I've missed both of you so much," she cried. "I'm so sorry, but I ca…"

She realised that she no longer had their attention. Both of them were looking past her, and she turned her head to see what had caught their notice. It was Snape's patronus. It walked slowly up to the spot where she knew he was standing, raising its head to look up. It seemed to nuzzle something with the side of its head as it slowly faded away.

"Isn't that…?" asked Harry.

"Yes," she replied sadly. "It is."

* * *

Harry and Ron stood on the other side of the invisible barrier as they watched Hermione turn around and walk a few metres in the opposite direction.

"I don't know why she couldn't have just stayed with us," grumbled Ron.

"She said it was important. You know Hermione. I don't think she'd lie about something like that."

"Well at least we know exactly what it is we're looking for now. That's something at least."

"What's she doing?" said Harry.

They watched in confusion as Hermione stopped, waved her arm around in front of her for a moment. She shook her head at something, turned and looked back in their general direction with a sad smile. She mouthed something, then suddenly, with a quiet crack, she was gone.

The boys looked at each other with identical expressions of bewilderment.

"What was that about?" said Ron.

Harry just shrugged. "Come on, let's get back inside. It's freezing out here and we've got a lot to talk about." He turned back and started trudging through the soft sand towards the cottage that stood on the edge of the beach. Ron stared at the space where Hermione had disappeared for a moment longer.

"I don't like it," he said moodily. "I hope she's ok."


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

 

* * *

She was surprised at how companionable the silence was. Snape sat in the armchair opposite, the fire burning merrily between them. The light from the windows above had long since faded, the room now bathed in bright candlelight.

They both sat reading quietly. Snape was perusing an ancient tome on dark potions that she had never heard of, let alone seen, and she was flicking through several books, the ones not currently open on her lap either tucked down carefully beside her, or stacked on the widest part of the arm of the chair.

Every now and then as she paused in thought, or swapped books she would glance up at the dour man before her. Often she would find him studying her face unabashedly, not with a smile, but with a certain softness of expression she was unused to seeing on his face. Sometimes she looked up to catch him looking away quickly, his eyes flicking back down to the book that lay open on his lap.

She wasn't sure what she was doing to warrant his attention, but it wasn't intrusive, and when their eyes met each other's, she would flash him a slight smile, wondering what it was that he was thinking. Whatever it was, she found herself strangely comfortable in his presence.

It was getting late when he closed his book gently with a soft sigh. "It's time, Miss Granger. We both have to be up early tomorrow."Sadly she closed the book in her lap, gathering the ones spread around her into a pile. "Leave them on the desk, I will see to them later."

She put them down, and turned to face him.

"What must I do?"

"Sit down, and I will help you." He pointed to the chair behind his desk, and she did as he asked. Snape then went to one of the cupboards, opening it and rooting around before emerging with an empty glass phial. He set it down on the desk next to her. "I need you to carefully recall the memories you want to save. You do not have to replay them in your head, just bring them to the front. It will take a few minutes to gather them all, so do not rush. I will do the rest. Are you ready?"

She nodded, biting her lip. "I think so."

"Look at me."

She lifted her eyes and met his dark ones, and immediately she felt him slips into her mind. Her breath caught. His presence was so familiar now, a tightly wrapped bundle of pulsing brightness pressing against her thoughts. It was… comforting.

_Concentrate_ , she heard in her mind. As ordered, she began to pull together the memories from that day that she wanted to keep, discarding the moments that were useless or unimportant. As she worked through the ones she wanted to keep she could feel Snape tugging on them, and then there would be the strange sensation of double vision.

Viewing her memories, travelling to Tinworth, her discussions with Dumbledore and Snape, her joy at seeing Harry and Ron, and the sadness when she left them again, the rest of the day spent searching through piles of books, the cosy evening they had just shared; Snape took them all from her.

She considered for a moment, then added her dream from that morning, the way Snape had held her in his arms to comfort her afterwards, and how she'd looked up at him and kissed him. The shimmering ball that was Snape quivered, the connection between them suddenly tenuous, and she reached out with her mind to hold him steady.

As she did, she caught a glimpse of herself looking up, eyes closing and lips parted, hands framing her face. There was a burst of emotion and then she found herself flung away, back into her own thoughts. What was that?

She tried quickly to think of something else, knowing how jealously Snape guarded his privacy, especially of his own mind. She fell upon the first memory she could find that she hadn't already sorted.

* * *

She was standing on the beach at Tinworth, Harry and Ron having disappeared back behind their wards. She had returned to the spot where she knew Snape waited for her, and she held out her hand. She felt him take it and wrap her arm around his.

"Ready to go?"

She nodded, turning around to look at where the boys had vanished. "I'm ready." They apparated, her entire body squeezed and wrung out before they appeared back in his library. They both became visible at the same time as Snape dropped the invisibility charm, and she continued to hold onto him as the world spun around her.

She grinned up at him tentatively as her head cleared, but he fixed her with a grave stare.

"Miss Granger, are you aware that attacking a teacher is an expellable offense?"

_Huh…?_ She took a moment to catch on to what he was talking about. _Oh shit, he heard!_ Her mouth moved silently for a moment, trying to form an appropriate response, before she noticed the side of his mouth twitching. Pulling away from him, she frowned at him, crossing her arms.

"The expression on your face just now, Miss Granger, was well worth the cost of the new robes I had to buy to replace those you decided to set alight. I did wonder how long it would have taken you to realise you're not exactly in a position right now to be expelled."

She huffed at him, though not angrily, before she realised. "You…did you hear…. _everything_? She hoped not, it wasn't beyond reason to assume that he might be able to deduce what their task was from their conversation on the beach.

"No, I cast Muffliato as soon as I knew Potter and Weasley weren't going to hex you." Hermione let out a relieved sigh. "Now, since we are on the subject of your… misdemeanours, is there anything else you would like to confess?"

"Ummm…" She paused. There was a knowing look in his eyes. She decided to brave it. "We… stole ingredients from your stores to brew Polyjuice potion in second year," she admitted.

"And were you successful?"

That wasn't the response she had expected. "Yes, it worked perfectly."

"Then why did I have the pleasure of observing you several times in the hospital wing, looking distinctly… furry?"

She gasped. "You saw?

He smirked at her. "It just so happened that week I was… forced to make frequent visits to the infirmary. For some reason, Madame Pomfrey's supplies kept on disappearing and I, unfortunately, had to replace them daily. Sometimes twice a day."

They looked at each other, and to her surprise his face broke into what was definitely a smile. It suited him. Hermione covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. "There was nothing wrong with the potion, I just picked the wrong hair."

Snape just chuckled quietly.

"I can't believe you knew." _I can't believe you have a sense of humour._

"Consider yourself lucky, Miss Granger. I found myself enjoying your…predicament too much to care enough to hunt down the three of you for stealing my ingredients. I don't think I've ever…"

* * *

Hermione felt a tug on the memory, and again she saw double vision as it was pulled away. _That's it. Finished_ , she thought, and then she felt Snape disappear from her mind and the room came back into focus.

She watched as the long silvery strand attached to his wand were deposited in the phial. "Why do I still remember everything? I thought you were removing them," she asked, confused.

"It's better for both of us if I copy them now, and just obliterate the whole day at once, instead of searching for the odd bits that are left," he said as he stored the phial in the same cupboard as before. "It also means I don't have to deal with you not understanding exactly what we are doing."

She should have thought of that. "So… what now?"

It is best if you are in your bed when I perform the spell." He gestured to the door and she went through before him. "You must make sure you leave yourself and the room in the same condition as you did last night. I will give you a few minutes to prepare yourself." He pushed her bedroom door open and let her go in, closing it behind her.

Hermione brushed her hair quickly, leaving the hairbrush next to the bed as she always did. She then pulled off her dress, laying it carefully over the wooden chair and scrambled quickly beneath her blanket, just as Snape knocked on the door.

"I'm ready," she called, lying down and pulling the covering up to her neck. The door opened, and Snape peeked cautiously around the door, making sure she was decent before entering. He crossed the room and sat on the bed next to her.

"Is there anything else I should be aware of before I do this?"

She wracked her brains for anything important. "No, I don't think so." She paused. "Sir, do you know when I'll next have a chance to be like… this again…?"

"I can make no guarantees, Miss Granger. The Dark Lord is expected to return any day, and we will no doubt be expected to attend him. I do not dare let you have possession of your memories until after then, and even then it may not be possible immediately."

"I understand," she replied nervously.

"Are you ready?" he asked, pulling his wand and a small phial out of his robes. Hermione nodded. "Drink this. It's a sleeping potion. I'll cast the charm just before you fall asleep." He offered it to her, and she took it, sitting up slightly as she drained the bottle.

She handed it back, snuggling back down under her covers. He tucked the phial away and lifted his wand, but Hermione stopped him with a hand on his wrist. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?" he asked with one eyebrow raised.

"For looking after me," she replied with a yawn.

"I'm not sure that's what I'd call it." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I've treated you horribly, and I will continue to do so."

She looked up at him sleepily. "I forgive you," she whispered as she lifted her hand to run her fingers through his hair.

He gently took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. "I know," he replied sadly. "You always do…"

With his other hand he touched his wand to her temple. She smiled up at him reassuringly, her eyes slowly drifting shut.

"Obliviate," he murmured, and a soft white light shot out from the end of his wand. By the time the spell ended she was asleep. He tucked the hand he still held under her blanket and pulled it up around her neck. Snape gazed down at her for a few moments, stroking the untidy hair back from her face. "… and I don't deserve it," he said tenderly. He bent over and touched his lips to her forehead for a second.

Getting to his feet he left the room quickly. With a wave of his hand the room went dark, and the door clicked shut quietly behind him.


	22. Chapter 22

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

The door banged open before Hermione had a chance to throw herself to her knees. As she scurried to get into her usual position she caught a glimpse of his face. _Shit! He's in an awful mood. This isn't going to be good._

"I thought I told you…" Snape hissed suddenly, cutting off his words. Hermione snuck a glance upwards. What she saw sent a jolt of fear through her. He had pulled back his sleeve and was starting down at the mark on his arm. _He's being called…_ She squeezed her eyes shut. _Please… I don't want to go_. She held her breath.

"Get to work, girl. There is no need for you to prepare breakfast this morning. I do not know when I will return." Snape swept from the room and was gone before she dared to move. _Thank Merlin_. She sunk down to the floor, relieved. _He's back early. I'm sure he said he would be away for longer._ She wondered whether his early return was a good sign or bad.

She heard a pop from somewhere outside her room. _He's gone_. She breathed a sigh of relief.

* * *

She'd made herself a quick breakfast of a couple of pieces of toast and got to work, eager to finish and read the book that was waiting for her in the library. The rooms seemed rather a bit dirtier than they should have after only one night, considering how thoroughly she'd cleaned it the day before.

Hermione left the library until last, and it was still a good while before lunchtime that she finally got round to entering the room. She dusted the books warily, mindful of the many spells that surrounded them, and taking care not to read even the spines, for fear of growing dizzy and falling. There were several places where books had been removed from the shelves, and, looking round the room, she realised they were piled up of the desk. _Funny, Snape never leaves books out like that._

She crossed the room to the desk, looking curiously at the large pile. Some of the books she recognised. _What can Snape be looking for in Hogwarts; A History?_ , she wondered. The rest of the books were an odd mix of historical texts and dark magic tomes. She ran her finger down the pile. _I wonder what he's looking for_ , she thought idly.

She figured she better leave them on the desk, not knowing whether he would be needing them when he came back. She turned to grab her duster, intending to clean the top of the desk when she realised. _I can read the names… Why didn't I get dizzy?_ She looked back over them, frowning. _What's changed?_

She pulled out _Hogwarts; A History_ from the pile, assuming it was unlikely to have any warding on it, and gingerly flipped it open to a random page. Peeking cautiously at the words, she found that they were not swimming in front of her eyes either. She read a page or two eagerly, happy just to be able to do so, despite half knowing the book off by heart already. Oh, how she'd missed the ability to read what she wished.

Unwillingly, she pulled herself away and looked back at the pile. _What's going on?_ She flipped the book on the top of the pile open. She could read that too. She went through the whole pile, even the books on dark magic, some of which she knew should be warded. She could read them all. _Maybe he lifted the charm on them._

She went to look at the books on the bookshelf. She only had to run her eyes over the title of the first one she saw before her head started spinning. She dropped to the floor, breathing heavily, and waited for it to clear. It took a few minutes before she was able to get up without feeling like she was going to be sick. When she eventually managed it, she quickly slumped down in the chair behind the desk and contemplated the pile of books before her.

Why was she able to read these any not the others? The only thing she could think of was that Snape must have decided that she was allowed to study these particular books for some reason. But what for? They had nothing to do with the potions text he had given her, and Snape had said nothing about her being allowed to read any others beside that one.

She pulled the closest one in front of her and began to flick through it idly as she thought. After a few minutes she pushed it aside and reached for the next. What am I missing? A piece of parchment sticking out from between the pages caught her eye, and she pulled it out. What she saw confused her even more.

The neat script covering the page was her own. She read it with interest. Why would she have been taking notes on such things? Not that she could remember writing any of it. _What the hell is a horcrux?_ The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't recall having read anything about it before. It sounded like a type of dark magic, so she started going through the books on the table to see if they could enlighten her.

About half an hour later she had her answer. _But that still doesn't explain why I've been studying them. And why can't I remember doing it._ She scanned through her notes. Nothing jumped out at her. She sighed, turning the parchment over to check the back. There was a short list scribbled on the back. She read it, frowning in confusion. It made no sense. _Diary, Gaunt's ring, snake, Slytherin - locket, Hufflepuff – cup? Ravenclaw - ?_ There was a gap, then _Voldemort._ And a little further down, _Harry?_

She slumped back against the back of the chair. What did it all mean? She chewed at her bottom lip as she read the list over and over. _Voldemort… Harry?_ The name Gaunt rang a bell. _Snake…_ The only snake she could think of besides the one on the Slytherin coat of arms was the one that followed Voldemort around. _Voldemort…_ Then she remembered where she had heard the name Gaunt before; The pureblood family that Voldemort's mother had come from.

With a sudden flash of insight she realised what the list was. _They're his horcruxes. It's the only thing that makes sense. That's how he managed to survive all these years and return._ She read down the list again. Seven, including himself, if her notes were correct. But why Harry's name at the bottom? She had a horrible feeling about that, but pushed it aside for the moment.

Several of the items on the list had a tick by them, and there was a short dash by the word Hufflepuff. What did that mean? Had they been found? It was so frustrating. Why could she not remember having written any of this? What was such a list doing in one of Snape's books? She rubbed her eyes tiredly, her brain working through the problem as fast as it could.

She got to her feet and started pacing, going over and over the information in her head. _Voldemort, Harry, Horcruxes, but when, and how?_ If she could only remember! _Remember…. Shit!_

She ran back to the desk and scrabbled about in the many pieces of parchment that lay in piles over the desk. Finally she found what she was looking for. She grabbed it and ran back to her room. Jumping on her bed she began counting the marks on the wall. She still wasn't sure what day she'd been captured, but she could count the days from the first Monday at least.

She knew she'd lost some time that first week, but she couldn't tell how much exactly. Then she'd lost two days that week, and half of last Wednesday. Counting up from then that should bring her to today, Tuesday. She frowned down at the enchanted calendar in her hands. Wednesday 15th March. _What?_ She'd lost another day somewhere. _But when?_

She had no way to tell. But it brought the total to three and a half days she was sure about, and quite possibly one or two more, if her suspicions about her first week here were correct. _That's an awful lot of time to spend unconscious, Cruciatus curse or not_. Looking down at the notes she'd also grabbed she tenuously put two and two together. But why would Snape allow me to do such a thing? There's no way I could do this without his help.

An idea began to form in her head. She sat back against the wall as she mulled it over. But that would mean that he's been on our side all alone. That wouldn't explain what she was doing here, and his treatment of her. Gods, her head was starting to hurt. There was only one thing that could make sense, but it was ridiculous. _Or is it?_

A crack resounded through the rooms. Snape was back. Shit! She'd left the books sprawled all over his desk. He was bound to notice. She could hear footsteps coming closer down the hall. She looked around wildly. There was nowhere to hide the pieces of parchment that were laying in her lap. Nothing else for it then.

* * *

The girl's calm demeanour gave him pause. Did she know? He wouldn't put it past her to have figured it out, even knowing as little as she did. He could have kicked himself when he'd caught side of the books spread over the table the moment he'd apparated back. What had possessed him to have left them out for her to find? He knew the answer to that. He'd been too busy wallowing in self-pity and a bottle of fire whisky after having obliviated her yet again to realise he hadn't returned the books to their proper places.

_Fuck!_ He prayed she hadn't figured it out. He didn't have time for this today. He needed to get out into the castle before one or both of the Carrows decided to take advantage of his absence. How they always seemed to know when he had been called to the Dark Lord he wasn't sure, but he had quickly realised that they would always find a reason to push things further than normal when he was away. He normally wasn't gone for so long, but the meeting this morning had stretched on for ages, and then he had been held back to speak with the Dark Lord in private after.

Besides the usual questions concerning the running of the school the Dark Lord had, of course, wanted to hear of his progress with the girl. He had shown him everything that would be found in her own mind, though Snape had been very careful to mask his emotions. Better for him to know all that had transpired in the last 10 days than to question why Snape had held certain things back. That would only look suspicious.

The Dark Lord had been pleased with his testing of her, but he had taken some convincing to believe his reasons for leaving the girl alone for several days afterwards, and for some of his other treatment of her. He had pushed hard into Snape's mind, searching for anything out of place. Snape had barely ben able to keep up his mental walls under the assault. Fortunately, seeing the way that the girl was beginning to respond to him, and the way she had acted when he had offered her the chance to learn from his own books, had persuaded him to continue trusting in Snape's methods.

The Dark Lord had been amused by her thirst for knowledge, instructing Snape to dangle the possibility of being allowed to study in front of her as a reward for her continued good behaviour, and eventual loyalty. She'd already proved herself willing to use forbidden magic. For someone with such a reputation of being a goody-two-shoes and a swot, she had broken a ridiculous amount of rules, and not just the ones imposed at school.

The Dark Lord was sure that the temptation of studying, coupled with the threat of what might happen to her if she continued to oppose him, would be enough to convince her. Snape didn't agree. He didn't think the girl was likely to be seduced by the Dark Arts. However he had a plan of how to gain her obedience, he would just need her agreement, as well as some ideas from the girl herself as to the best way to manipulate herself into such a thing. His plan would hopefully bring the return of her wand and magic, as well as making her as safe as she could be in the circumstances. _Pity we don't have the time now._

Snape's gaze dropped to the parchment the nervous girl before him was holding in her hand. He could just make out her neat handwriting covering the page. _Where did she find that?_ He could also see his calendar poking out from behind the parchment. She should have known better than to go through the papers on his desk. He felt his anger building. _She knows._

He was furious with himself, of course, not her. He had made so many bloody mistakes where she was concerned, he was surprised the whole scheme hadn't been discovered yet. _It's only a matter of time, the way I'm going. When did I get to be so… careless?_ His mind raced ahead, trying to think of a quick fix to the problem. It took all his self-control to hold back his fury as he growled, "What have you done, girl."

"I know." There was silence for a few moments.

"What do you know, girl?" He ground the words out from between clenched teeth. _Damn!_

"I know you've been letting me use your library for research. That's why I'm missing so much memory, isn't it. You don't want Vol… You-Know-Who to know what I'm doing. I know all about his hor…"

"Be silent!" he snapped. "That is enough. Be careful, Miss Granger. There are certain things which I must remain in ignorance of. If the Dark Lord were to force his way into my mind and view my actions it would mean not only my death, but the end of the task you and Potter have been set by Professor Dumbledore."

"Harry? He's been here?"

"No."

"Then, how…?"

"Miss Granger," he replied impatiently. "Unfortunately I do not have the time to explain everything fully. I normally give you time to research when we are unlikely to be called before the Dark Lord. I trust you realised where I was called this morning."

"Yes, of course," she replied, still confused.

"You are to be brought before him when next he calls me. I do not know how long that will be, only that it will be very soon. Most likely tomorrow or Friday, but there is always the possibility it will be this evening. You cannot be in any possession of the knowledge which you have, regrettably, found out for yourself this morning."

"I don't understand. Why are you doing this? You killed Dumbledore for him, so why do you want to…"

"You do not need to understand, Miss Granger, at least not today. I do apologise, but your timing is rather… unfortunate." He flicked his wand at her, wrapping her in a body bind. Snape took a deep breath, wiling himself to calm down. It really wasn't the girl's fault. He shouldn't have left those damn books out. Now he needed to be focused while he rid her of the memories or he might damage her mind. He was going to have to decide on a good reason for her to have lost a couple of hours of memories.

Snape walked towards her, pulling an empty phial from some pocket deep within his robes. The girl's eyes widened in fear as he approached her, lifting his wand to her temple.

"I am afraid you are just going to have to trust me to do this today, Miss Granger. I need to remove the memories of this morning, back to when you first noticed something out of place." She shook her head as much as the binding would allow, and he could see her struggle to move her jaw. He ignored it, looking into her eyes.

Fear and confusion swirled in her mind, and try as he might, it was preventing him from viewing clearly what he needed to find, and in the snatches of memory that flashed past him, he was in danger of seeing something he shouldn't know. _Shit! This is not going to work._

"Stop fighting me, girl. This has to be done. You will understand why soon enough." She was fighting to say something and so he released her just enough for her to speak.

"What do you expect, you bastard?!" she shouted. "You just expect me to let you destroy my memories without giving me any sort of reason. You don't tell me what is going on or why you suddenly seem to be allowing me to do something that is meant to destroy your… your… master. What makes you think I'm not going to fight you as much as possible?" She wriggled, trying to fight the bind.

Snape sighed, rubbing the bride of his nose. He was going to have to give her something or she would never let him do what was needed. "I can show you something. It will not be much, but maybe it will be enough to convince you to let me do this."

The girl stilled, searched his face for something, and then nodded warily, her eyes never leaving his face.

Again, Snape raised his wand. The girl flinched, but he grabbed her chin. "Stay still, girl. I'm not going to hurt you." He touched the wand to her head, this time also pressing his forehead to hers. He wasn't sure why, but he'd always found it easier this way. He'd done this with her before, so he knew exactly what to show her. Quickly he slipped into her mind, selecting one of his own memories and opening it up to her. He heard her gasp as she pulled her head away from him. He released the body bind and she sank to the floor.

"That... that's... horrible. How could he ask you to do such a thing?"

Snape smirked. "Funny, you seem to say something similar every time you find out."

She looked up at his suspiciously. "How do I know it's true though? Obviously you're good at Legilimency, so as far as I know you could be just making it up."

His mouth tightened in frustration. He was beginning to run out of patience with the girl.

"You worked out for yourself I am doing something which is at odds with my supposed loyalty to the Dark Lord. I show you further proof that I am working against him, and still you cannot trust me..."

"It's not enough. Why would Dumbledore ask you to kill him? It doesn't make any sense."

"It was enough for you to trust me the first time, it must be enough now." That was not strictly true. He'd shown her something else as well, but he hated anyone knowing that particular secret unless absolutely necessary.

"Well it's not! she shouted. "I don't care if you've got something else to do, you'll just have to make time to help me understand..." She paused, breathing hard. Something suddenly seemed to occur to her. "What do you mean, the first time?"

Her words had triggered something. He answered her question absentmindedly. "When you were first captured. I had to find a way to make you trust me quick or it would have meant the end of whatever you, Potter and the Weasely boy were up to, as well as your immediate death when the Dark Lord found out what you were doing." Suddenly he knew what to do to buy him the time they needed.

"What… what do you mean, when I was first captured? I don't remember…."

"Not now, girl. Come with me, and I'll explain everything." He grabbed her arm and began dragging her out of her room.

"I thought you said you had no time."

Snape said nothing. The girl would see soon enough. As they left her room he heard a small click further down the corridor. _Library door._ He quickly pulled out his wand, letting go of the girl, and pushing her against the wall. A stern glance told her to stay put, and then he was striding down the hall to the library. He flung the door open, his wand raised and ready.

_Of course, I should have realised, considering what we are just about to do_.

The girl inside the room smiled gently at him. "He's gone to check on the castle," she whispered. "Told me to wait here and tell you. It all makes sense now." She paused. "Close the door, I'm coming. Quick!"

Snape grabbed the door and pulled it shut, turning at the same time to face the girl who had been creeping stealthily down the hall. "Why did you not wait where I left you, girl? You have no way of protecting yourself if there had been something wrong."

She ignored him, instead looking past him to the door which he was still holding onto the handle of. "What was it?"

"Nothing." She looked at him dubiously. He raised his eyebrow at her, daring her to comment further, but she chose not to take him up on it. _Thank Merlin_. He gestured for her to follow him, and with one more curious glance at the library door she did.

Snape opened the door to his office, stepping down the stairs into the main part of his office and pointed to a spot in the middle of the room. "Wait there." He went to his desk, opening the bottom drawer and rooting around for a moment to find what he was looking for. Pulling it out and returning to the middle of the room to stand close to her he was glad to see the understanding flash across her face as she saw what he was carrying. _Why didn't I bloody think of this before? I would never have had so much time to account for._

Before throwing the thin gold chain around them both he lifted his wand and checked the wards. He didn't think anyone would have been able to get into the room during the time he had been out of the school, but it was safer to make sure there would be no nasty surprises. The wards were all intact. _She would have said if something had happened, I'm sure._

Snape wound the chain around them and twisted the knob twice. _2 hours, that should be more than enough._ The flat disk span twice as they moved backwards in time. Nothing in the room shifted except for the patterns of light quickly moving backwards across the floor. Time stopped for a moment, then suddenly started running the right way again, and he pulled the chain of the time-turner over their heads, and tucked it back into his desk.

He turned back to face the girl, who seemed calmer now she had realised she was going to get an explanation. "Now, Miss Granger, what was your question again?"

 

 


	23. Under Malfoy Manor

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

 

* * *

Hermione scurried down the hallway. She could hear voices from her bedroom further along. Suddenly she heard herself shout. Shit, that was right before we came out. She ran for the door as quietly as she could, opening the door and pulling it closed just as she heard footsteps in the hall. _Guess I know what Snape saw in here now_. She stood to one side of the door and waited for it to open.

She jumped when it did, despite knowing what was going to happen. The fierce look on his face faded the moment her saw her. He understood immediately. She smiled at him. "He's gone to check on the castle. Told me to wait here and tell you. It all makes sense now," she said, more to herself. Suddenly realising that her past self was at this moment creeping towards the door she whispered, "Close the door, I'm coming. Quick!"

His eyes widened momentarily, and then he quickly slammed the door. She pressed her ear to the wood and heard herself question him, and then footsteps moving on down the hall. She sighed in relief. _What do I do now?_

She strolled over to the desk to look at the books that she'd found earlier. With a sigh she flopped down in the chair and idly turned the pages of the one she'd found the parchment in. There wasn't even any point doing any reading. She wasn't even sure what she was looking for. In the last two hours she'd talked through things with Snape, although it had really been the painting of Dumbledore than had soothed away the last of her doubts.

It had taken a while for the two of them to convince her to help Snape manipulate her into doing what he wanted. Even alone as she was now, her face burned with embarrassment at what she had agreed to. _Oh Gods, this is going to be awful. Even if I enjoy it at the time_. She put her head in her hands. _I can't believe I'm going to do this._

She slumped back against the chair, and chewed on her bottom lip. It wasn't like she'd be doing anything that she hadn't done before. Her cheeks went even redder at that thought. Come to think of it though, Snape hadn't looked any more comfortable with that part of the plan. He'd been very careful not to meet her eyes, and his cheeks had more colour in them than was usual. Hermione smirked. That actually made her feel slightly better about it.

She eyed the book in front of her and sighed again. There wasn't even any point in continuing her research. She didn't actually know what she was looking for. That had been the one thing they hadn't really discussed, beyond a few cautionary words from Dumbledore. There was no point. As soon as Snape returned he would be removing her memories of this morning, and she hadn't been able to see the memories she normally had access to. They'd been stuck in the headmaster's study, and Snape had told her that her memories were in the cupboard in the library. They'd had to time her return to the library carefully so she didn't run into herself.

_My memories…_ Now that was an idea for something to do while she waited. Snape had said he would be gone for about an hour. She looked round the room. There was only one cupboard. She frowned. _That's strange._ She'd cleaned the room so many times, even seen Snape go into the cupboard, yet she'd never really noticed it properly before.

She got up and walked towards it. As her hand reached out to the handle she felt a buzz in her mind. She was halfway back to the desk before she realised. _He's put some type of repelling charm on it_. No wonder she'd never opened it before. Walking back to the cupboard slowly she paused when she felt the buzz in her head begin again. Steeling herself and fixing her objective firmly in her head she pushed past and wrenched the door open. Immediately the buzzing stopped and she let out the breath she had been holding.

The middle shelf was full of glass phials, many of them containing bright swirling filaments of memory. Bloody hell, how many are there? She reached out to touch the closest one and it pulsed gently under her fingers. She trailed her fingers down the line of phials. Each had a small label stuck to the glass, all with dates written on them neatly. She went along the line until she found the earliest one. _23rd March. May as well start there._

Curiosity burning in her, she gingerly took the phial off the shelf and grabbed the pensieve that was sitting at the other end. Carrying them carefully and setting the latter down on the table she uncorked the bottle and poured it in. The memories swirled in the bowl like silvery ink in water. She bent down slowly and put her face to the surface.

Hermione blinked. It was pitch black _. Did something go wrong with the memory?_ Then she head a shuffling and a quiet moan. _Where am I?_ The question was quickly answered as the door flew open suddenly, the bright light beyond creating a silhouette that lay across a body curled up in the corner of the tiny room. _It's me,_ she realised. Looking up at the figure outlined in the doorway, despite being unable to see his face, she realised it was Snape. No one else could be quite so… dramatic… when just standing still.

Snape turned to look behind him. "Leave me, Wormtail. Run off and find something useful to do," he sneered. Hermione heard footsteps scurrying away as he stepped into the room, closing the door firmly behind him and casting a quick charm over it. Then he moved quickly to the body on the floor, turning her over. "Miss Granger… you need to wake up." He shook her gently.

Hermione saw herself shudder in his arms as she woke, turning her face up towards his before her eyes fluttered open. The moment she realised where she was and who was holding her she flew backwards, pushing him away and pressing herself up against the stone wall.

She held her arms out in front of her, as if to hold him at bay. "Where am I? What do you want? She asked, obviously terrified.

"I'm here to help you."

She laughed hysterically. "Like you helped Dumbledore. No thanks. I don't need any help from a traitor."

His lips thinned but his voice was composed as he replied. "Things are not always as they seem, Miss Granger. You will have to trust me. I may be your only chance, right now."

"Why in hell would I trust you," she spat.

"Because right now you are being held underneath Malfoy Manor, and the Dark Lord is on his way. No doubt he will want to find about what you know concerning Mr Potter. I know Dumbledore gave him a mission, although he never told me exactly what. I assume the three of you have been trying to complete this task over the past months, and that whatever it is, it will play an important part in the downfall of the Dark Lord."

Hermione said nothing, looking at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Snape sighed heavily at her reticence. "I don't have time to convince you to trust me, girl. You're going to have to let me show you." He moved towards her, palms spread, and she cowered back against the wall.

"Stay away from me."

"Don't be silly, girl. If I wanted to hurt you there would be nothing you could do to stop it. I promise I will not harm you. You understand that the memories that you may or may not hold in your head could prove the end of the resistance against the Dark Lord if he were to see them in your mind. I need to remove them before he arrives."

Hermione continued to look at him distrustfully, although her real self could tell that she was wavering.

Snape continued. "Time is very short. He will be here soon, and I must be there when he does. Please, Miss Granger, let me show you."

She lowered her arms and gave him a curt nod. Snape moved quickly towards her, pressing his forehead up against hers and pointing his wand and the spot where they joined. He mumbled something incomprehensible, and they both closed their eyes. They were silent for mere moments before Hermione gasped and pulled away.

"That… that was you? With the sword?"

Snape nodded.

Her eyes went wide and she looked at him strangely. "Harry's Mum? Was that her? Is that why you're doing this? You l…" She trailed off at the sight of Snape's tight angry face and quickly decided to change the subject. "And Dumbledore…Merlin's beard, what a disgusting to ask you to do… I can't believe it." She froze and stared at him mistrustfully. "Can I believe it? How do I know this isn't just a trick?"

"You don't. Maybe I will just hand your memories over to the Dark Lord. But why would I do that if the Dark Lord only has to look into your mind and find the memories for himself. Can you afford not to trust me?"

Hermione considered that for a moment. "When you put it like that I guess I can't." She swallowed heavily, her eyes widening in fear. "What are they going to do to me? Can't you save me?"

"I cannot risk my position here to do so. I am already endangering everything I have worked for just by being here now. I cannot do more for you right now. I do not know what the Dark Lord may have planned for you, but I will try to convince him that you are worth more to him alive and unhurt."

Hermione grabbed him by the front of his smock coat. "Can't you take me with you? Persuade him to let you take me? Please… please…" she sobbed.

"What happened to not trusting me?"

"Better you…than some of those out there. We've heard things… about some of his… followers. Bellatrix Lestrange… and that werewolf…" She shuddered. "I can't imagine you doing anything like that."

There was a cold gleam in Snape's eyes. "Don't be so quick to assume I am not capable of those sorts of things, Miss Granger. What I have done would no doubt shock you." He paused. "But yes, you would be better off with me. I will… try. I make no promises. My task is far too important to risk, even for you." He looked back at the door. "We are running out of time. I need to remove those memories... now."

She nodded in agreement. "What do I need to do?"

At that moment, Hermione felt a strong hand on her shoulder jerk her backwards. She was dragged gracelessly out of her memory and landed with a thump on the floor, whacking her hip. _Ow_! she thought, giving it a rub and looking around to see what had happened.

Snape stood behind her, looming over her menacingly with a scowl on his face. "Your… curiosity… is becoming extremely annoying, Miss Granger. You have terrible habit of poking your nose in where it doesn't belong. What do you think you were doing, going through my things?"

"Your things? I thought they were mine," she retorted. He ignored her, instead stepping past to the desk where he pulled out his wand and transferred the memory from the pensieve back to its phial. Once he was finished he stored it safely back in the cupboard, and waited for Hermione to get to her feet.

"We have much to do today. Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied quietly, starting to feel a little apprehensive. Snape's expression softened, and he grabbed her by the arm, pulling her closer to him. She was too conscious of what was about to happen to be able to meet his eyes.

"Miss Granger," he said quietly. "I…"

He paused, and she looked up at him to see an intense look in his eyes. Sadness and… something else. He stroked one finger slowly down her cheek and she leaned into it without thinking, her heart beating slightly faster. _Why does he make me feel like this? I know he's on our side, but that still doesn't make him a nice person. So why does he make me feel so… safe?_

She drew her bottom lip between her teeth as she agonised over it. Snape's eyes darkened as he watched her bite gently on it. His head began to dip down slowly, moving towards her. She froze for a moment, unsure how she wanted to respond. He came closer, and she now she could feel his breath on her lips.

"I'm scared," she blurted out suddenly. It was true, but she had only said it out of confusion, not knowing whether she wanted him to continue or not. Snape moved away, his face a mask again, although she was sure she had seen disappointment flit across his face first. He took a step back, but still held on to her.

"I… promise… I will take the utmost care with you over the next few days," he said solemnly, as if he had not been aboutto kiss her a moment before. "I'll only do what is absolutely necessary. His voice dropped to a low rumble that she could almost feel in her chest. "I won't take advantage." His hands tightened on her arm as he spoke.

Hermione gazed up at him, her pulse fluttering. His expression told her his words were sincere, but something in his eyes was dangerous, almost predatory. _He wants me…_ she realised. _And I want him._ When had that happened? _It's been happening for a while and you know it. You kissed him the other day, and that was when you thought he was an evil bastard._ She scanned his face. Could she trust him to keep his word though? _He's the most self-controlled person I know. He wouldn't have got this far if he wasn't._

"I… trust you," she whispered, and to her surprise she meant it. "You kept the promise you gave me when I was captured. I know you'll keep this one too." She smiled tremulously. "I'm ready." _Although I wish I had the time to figure out how I feel about him. Does he just want me because I'm here and easily available, or is it something more?_

He stared at her for a moment, and she was half afraid he was trying to see into her mind. She shivered under the weight of his inky eyes. Eventually he reached into his robed and pulled out a tiny phial, filled with a dark pink liquid. "Remember, this won't make you do anything against your wishes, it only works with what is there already. "His cheeks turned pink as he spoke, and Hermione felt herself flushing too. _Haven't we already had this conversation? It was bad enough the first time._

She took the phial from his hand, opening it, and without any hesitation she downed it quickly, before she lost her nerve. Still holding the bottle, she stepped towards Snape, tucking her arms under his and wrapping them round him. He stiffened but didn't pull away. She rested her forehead against his chest. "Thank you," she muttered into his frock coat.

His hands came to rest awkwardly at her elbows, as if he didn't quite know what to do with her. "For what?" His thumbs rubbed gently over her skin.

"Everything. For looking after me."

Snape snorted quietly. She didn't need to ask why. She'd realised very quickly how much he disliked the whole situation and his forced treatment of her in particular. "I mean it," she said, almost inaudibly. She could feel the potion begin to warm her insides, and she snuggled closer to him, rubbing her nose against the wool of his coat. _Mmmn, he smells so good._

Snape's hands tightened on her arms and he gently pulled her back so he could look at her. "I see it's beginning to work."

She just smiled up at him. "Professor," she said. "Will you kiss me?"

Snape looked surprised, and searched her face intently for a moment before shaking his head. "I said I wouldn't take advantage not two minutes ago, and I won't."

"It wouldn't be taking advantage. I was thinking about it before I took the potion."

"We should be getting on with…"

"Please, Professor." She pushed herself up against him and looked him straight in the eye. "Just once before you take my memories again."

He looked down at her, and she could feel him push slightly into her mind, looking to see whether she really meant it. "Just once…" he whispered, lowering his face to hers.

His lips were soft above hers, but he held back, moving his mouth on hers gently. She moaned with longing, pressing the length of her body up against his, and one of his hands came up to tangle in her hair. _Maybe it's affecting me more than I realised._ She was past caring. Her mouth opened and her tongue reached out to taste him. Snape stiffened at the touch, pulling away, and she followed him, wanting more.

"No," he said firmly, holding her back. "Enough time has been wasted today already. I must remove your memories now."

She didn't want to, but after a moment's thought she nodded. She wasn't happy about losing her memories and being left clueless, thinking he was her enemy, but at least once it had been done she'd get to kiss him again. She could feel the potion coursing through her. I'm sure he said it would only be a weak _solution. Is it meant to feel this… potent?_ Not that it really mattered now. She was no longer nervous about what they had planned. _It's not you've not done it before anyway._

"What do you need me to do?"


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

 

* * *

Hermione moaned. Her head felt like someone had hit it with a brick. She slowly rolled over onto her side with a grunt of pain, and forced her eyes open. She squinted against the overly bright light and waited for the room to come into focus. When it finally did she blinked in surprise. Two wooden chair legs and a pair of black boots lay only a few inches from her face.

The feet moved suddenly and she heard the rustle of robes as he got to his feet. "Get up girl." His voice was low and dangerous and it sent a shiver down her spine. She pushed herself onto a sitting position as her head swam, but she struggled getting to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly and her hip hurt. She rubbed the side of her head where it hurt most and was surprised to find a tender lump. She gasped in pain as her fingers prodded it carefully.

Hermione tried to recall what had happened. The last thing she could really remember was going into the library to clean _. No…wait…_ There was the vague recollection of standing over the desk as a furious voice spoke from behind. There was a burst of agony and then the edge of the desk slowly coming closer until… nothing. _Dammit! What do I do this time?_ Try as she might she couldn't remember any more details, and what she could recall was blurry and white-washed.

Snape hissed in annoyance as she stopped moving, and grabbing her hair, tugged her onto her knees in front of him. "You stupid girl, what did you think you were doing? How could you be so careless?"

She made no reply, still racking her brain in an effort to recall what she had done to made him so angry.

He bent over her, moving his face close to hers. A prickle of heat ran through her just before he pulled her hair hard, making her whimper. "You should know better than this now, girl. Answer me when I speak to you."

"Yes… master," she whispered. Tears picked at the corners of her eyes. _What am I supposed to tell him? And why does he smell so good today?_ She unconsciously tried to pull closer to him, but his hands were still wound in her frizzy curls.

"Well…? Answer the question," he snapped.

"I…I don't know, I don't remember," came her stammering reply.

Snape growled, yanking on her hair to pull her head back. "You'd better not be lying, girl. I kept well within the limits that have caused your memory loss in the past." He looked into her eyes and another wave of warmth ran through her body to pool between her legs. _Gods, what's wrong with me. Am I really getting off on being manhandled?_ She felt him press into her mind and sift through her memories quickly before withdrawing with a muttered curse.

He let go of her suddenly and she overbalanced, hitting the floor with a thump. Snape turned away tiredly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It seems you are not lying this time. Your punishment was not particularly severe and yet you still have some memory loss. Interesting…" He grabbed her by the chin, looking into her eyes again, his piercing gaze sending a shiver through her. For a moment she thought he would invade her mind again, but he soon pulled away slightly and she almost sighed in relief.

Snape then gently touched the side of her head. "Where does it hurt?" he asked in a surprisingly gentle tone. She pointed to the spot on the side of her head and he ran his fingers over it, feeling the bump and making her wince. His other hand began to stroke the hair on the other side of her head, soothing and warming her at the same time. She had to fight the urge to push into his hand.

He began to mutter under his breath, his eyes unfocused and staring past her. She watched him with wide eyes, fixed on the soft curve of his lips. Her breathing began to quicken and she began to lean into the heat of his body, the earthy scent of him almost overpowering her senses. _How have I never noticed how good he smells before?_ Her eyes closed as she moved closer, her lips almost brushing his as she let out an almost imperceptible whimper. _Gods I want him so much._

Immediately the hands in her hair shifted, and he pulled away, getting to his feet. She opened her eyes in confusion at the sudden loss of his presence and looked up to see him staring down at her. His expression was an odd mixture of desire and disgust. It made him look strangely tortured. As her eyes met his he stepped towards her, his face suddenly darkening in irritation. He grabbed Hermione by the upper arm, dragging her to her feet and almost throwing her towards his desk.

"Since you have conveniently forgotten," he sneered, "you can see for yourself the reason for your punishment." Hermione looked where he was indicating. She gasped in horror. There were several books lying on the desk, waterlogged and wrinkled. One lay open, the ink inside blurred and the words faded. _How the hell did I do that?_

"Isn't there a spell…?"

"Think, you stupid girl! You want to go around throwing charms at Dark Arts books? In any case, that is irrelevant, although it is lucky for you that the books can be repaired. What concerns me is why you were not more careful with my possessions? Whatever possessed you to throw water over my books?

She flinched from the force of his anger. "I would never…"

"Whether by accident… or design, the outcome is the same."

Hermione was horrified. What had she been thinking? She'd always been more than careful around books, keeping her own and any that she borrowed in pristine condition, or at least in the same condition she found them in. Without the aid of her memories she didn't even know what she had been doing to get the books wet. She couldn't imagine not having taken the utmost care while cleaning. It must have been an accident.

"I wonder if I have not perhaps been too lenient with you. I am certainly rethinking my offer to let you study. Unless there is some other way you wish to make up for you mistake?" he asked with a leer. She felt liquid pool in her centre at his words, delivered in a low, husky tone. She flushed bright red and shook her head.

He ignored the action, moving closer to her. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, pet?" She made no reply, looking down at her feet in embarrassment. Snape stepped up behind her, pushing her against the edge of the desk and trapping her between it and his body, her back tight up against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, his hands coming to rest on her ribs. She felt like she couldn't breathe as she prayed for his hands to move upwards and relieve the ache that was building in her breasts.

"That was a question. Answer me," he growled dangerously, his breath ticking her ear.

Hermione shuddered at the sensation, and tried to shake her head as she spoke. "No." She was barely audible.

"I told you not to lie to me, pet." His hands stroked down her sides to the top of her thighs. The ache in her breasts was slowly moving downwards to between her legs, and she clenched them together to try and stop the gentle throbbing. It didn't help at all, and as she felt his lips nuzzle the sensitive skin on the side of her neck she couldn't help but press herself back against him. His warm, velvety voice washed over her again. I know you want it. You can't fool me, pet. I can…smell just how… aroused you are.

Hermione flushed at his words, and squeezed her legs together again, now horribly aware of the dampness between her legs. His hands continued to more down, reaching the hem of her dress and slipping under to rest halfway up her legs. "You want me to keep going, pet? Tell me you want me to touch you."

Hermione did, but she still wasn't ready to tell him. His fingers traced idle circles on the front of her thighs, and the heat in her centre began to pulse with her need. _Higher… please._ Her need was so overwhelming she couldn't find the strength to question it. She just knew she wanted him.

Snape's hands moved slowly up her thighs, gravitating towards her core. Her head fell back against his shoulder and she felt her knees begin to buckle. He tugged gently on the lobe of her ear with his teeth, before running his tongue down her neck to where it met her shoulder. She tilted her head slightly to allow him better access.

As she slumped against him he seemed to realise how unsteady her legs were, and one arm appeared from under her dress and wrapped around her waist and pulling her even tighter against him. Through the haze she became aware of his hard cock pressed firmly against her arse. Snape ground his hips slowly against her and she moaned. _Touch me… Touch me, please…_

"Please, what…?" She realised she must have spoken out loud. The hand still under her dress was now at the juncture of her legs, almost where she wanted it. She was now utterly lost to everything besides gentle stroking of his hand and the throbbing in her centre. Finally it moved where she wanted it, and his fingers brushed across her clit.

"Please… master…" she cried, her hips bucking wildly at the contact, needing more. She wailed as his hand pulled away sharply, and just as quickly the arm around her waist disappeared and she fell forwards, clutching at the desk to stop herself from falling to the floor.

It took a few moments for her to regain her senses and look around for Snape in confusion. _What the hell was that?_ She found him sitting in one of his armchairs, idly flicking through a large tome as if nothing had just happened. She pushed herself up off the desk and turned to face him, opening her mouth to question him.

Before she could Snape spoke in a cool tone. "Since I missed both breakfast and lunch you will prepare something for me now. Once I have finished you will complete today'stasks. Make sure you do a better job than you have so far today." He paused for a second as he turned a page. "You may go." He still hadn't looked up at her.

She gaped like a fish for a moment at his calm dismissal before finding her courage. "But…why…"

Snape cut her off before she could get any further. "Next time you will answer the question when it is asked. Take time while you are working this afternoon to decide what it really is you want, girl. I know I do not need to remind you of the rewards when you please me, or the consequences when you do not."

He finally lifted his eyes from the book sitting on his lap. When they met hers she almost took a step back from the blazing intensity in the dark orbs.

"Now, get out."

* * *

Snape watched as the girl left the room and he finally relaxed. His eyes fell to his hands, which were clutching the book in his lap tightly to try and stop them from trembling. He hoped the girl hadn't noticed. He'd been struggling to control himself from the moment he'd had the girl pressed up against the desk, and as her head had fallen back against his chest he'd seen the pure, unadulterated lust written on her face.

The voice in his head had cried out then for him to take her, to claim her as his, and damn the consequences. He'd heard the voice the first time that night at Malfoy Manor when he'd carried her out in his arms, and it had started to grow more insistent ever since. Someone who was less practised at denying his own wants would have given in to it a long time ago. When the girl had finally pleaded for him to touch her he'd had to beat a hasty retreat, pushing her away as he struggled not to give in and take her right there over the desk.

He was still rock hard under the book he had used to conceal his almost painful arousal from the girl. Sighing, he put the book aside and unbuttoned the bottom of his coat and his trousers, finally freeing his cock from its tight confinement. Snape hissed as he wrapped his hand around the base and languidly stroked upwards, running his thumb over the swollen head. He smeared the bead of moisture that had collected at the tip with his fingers before he started to slide his hand up and down. He didn't want to, but he couldn't help but think of the girl and the way she'd felt in his arms bare moments ago.

He needed to come before seeing her again. He had more plans to tease her that evening and he couldn't do it without snapping, unless he could take the edge off his craving for her. He pumped furiously, tightening his grip, his hips thrusting forward with each down stroke. It wasn't long before he came, grunting as he erupted over his hand and trousers. He shuddered as he slowly squeezed the last drop of cum from the tip, before letting out a shaky breath as the tension within his body relaxed a notch.

He gave himself no time to bask in the aftermath of his orgasm, instead quickly reaching into a pocket to retrieve his wand. He cast a quick Scourgify on himself and his clothes before tucking his now soft cock back inside his trousers and doing up all the buttons. Getting to his feet, Snape walked slightly unsteadily to the desk.

He stared down at the mess covering the wooden surface, frowning in discontent. More and more he hated the pantomime he was forced to perform in, no matter the reason for it. He lifted his wand, and wordlessly waved it over the books, watching as the glamour lifted and they were restored to their original state.

Snape smirked slightly as he flicked his wand, sending the books to his office, where they would stay for a few days. Yet again his acting skills had been flawless. If he managed to get through this maybe he could pursue a career on the stage. He could tell the girl had been convinced by the story and his feigned anger, although he guessed she was probably more horrified at the thought of damaging a book than upsetting him. That was probably why the girl had suggested using that as the reason for her punishment.

He had been surprised when she had asked him to Crucio her instead of pretending as he had done before, but her reasons, once explained, had made sense. He was irritated he hadn't thought of them himself, though in some ways he supposed her vision was clearer than his. He could recall everything that had passed between them, whereas besides today's memories, she had only had the ones in which she believed he was loyal to the Dark Lord.

He hadn't meant for her to fall and hit her head like that. The girl had genuinely been knocked out for a minute or so, and he had rushed over to her, pulling her into his arms before performing a quick diagnostic spell. When he had found nothing wrong he had had to force himself to lay her back out on the floor and sit in his chair to wait, trying to ignore the feminine scent of her that had clung to his robes.

While he had watched over her, he had realised that the incident had actually been quite lucky, as it had given him a good idea for an explanation for her memory loss. It was plausible enough for the Dark Lord to accept, and not only fit in with the way the girl had been captured, but also had the advantage of being hard to disprove. _It also means I don't have to do any more… tests._

All things considered, a few good things had emerged from what that morning had seemed like a complete disaster. He had a good reason for her memory loss, as well as a far better way of finding time for her to search for the information she needed to help Potter.

Snape had been once again surprised at the lengths the girl was prepared to go to succeed. She had provided him with yet another way to manipulate her into doing what needed to be done to convince the Dark Lord of her loyalty. The only downside to it all was that she had had to be obliviated so soon. Despite his unwillingness to let the girl into his life in the first place he had begun to find it strangely pleasant to be around who didn't think the worst of him.

Snape's smile slowly faded. Lately the chances to let his guard down had been reduced to barely none at all. It was one reason why he had always guarded his privacy so jealously, as the only time he was able to put away the act was when he was alone. He still found himself unable to completely relax even when the girl knew what was going on. He'd not had to share his space with anyone since graduating Hogwarts, and while the girl's company had been less irksome than he had anticipated, he couldn't afford to let himself get close to her.

The next few days were going to test that resolve. The attraction to him that he had sensed in the girls mind was nothing more than a hangover of a juvenile crush that he had been able to tease and manipulate into something more _. And now that damned potion is going to make it worse_. That the girl had been sexually inexperienced to begin with had made his job much easier. He'd been shocked to find she was a virgin, having assumed that that idiot Weasley had done the job already. _They've been together for the past 9 months… What have they been doing?_

A memory flashed through his head of her soft body moving gently under his as he pushed into her for the first time. _You must stop this_ , he chastised himself. _It will do you no good._ The girl had wormed her way into his thoughts far too easily, and it was becoming less of a distraction than an outright danger to them both. The world outside the walls of his chambers was entirely hostile for him, and he couldn't afford to lose concentration at the wrong moment.

Besides, what would the girl want with an old fool like him? Given the chance she'd be out of here without a backward glance. _That's not true and you know it_ , a little voice said, but he ignored it. No. It was far better to keep her at arms distance or he would end up in the same situation as before with Lily. It was far better to choose to be alone that to risk that again. _Lily…_ He'd barely though of her in the past few weeks. Not that he normally let himself wallow in misery all day long. Only when he was feeling particularly melancholy and lonely did he torture himself with more than passing thoughts of her.

Snape stalked back to his chair, throwing himself into it despondently. He pulled the discarded book back into his lap absentmindedly, and opened it at a random page. As he turned the pages without actually reading a single word, he thought about the girl he had so stupidly thrown his life away over twice. The first time when he had joined the ranks of the Death-Eaters, but also when he had begged for her life at Dumbledore's feet, and exchanged one master for two.

Not that it had got him anything besides a permanent commitment to watch over the boy he so despised, and constant hatred and mistrust from those on both sides. Snape scowled heavily. He was always the one performing the dirty tasks, the ones no one from the Order wanted to touch, and yet he couldn't recall the last time someone had gone out of their way to help him, or make his life easier.

_Until now…_

 


	25. Chapter 25

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Hermione returned to the library a short while later with a steaming tray of hot food. Her heart fluttered again when she saw him, still sitting in the armchair where she left him. He put away his book as he heard her enter, tucking it down the side of the seat. Hermione carried the tray across to his desk, setting it down carefully so as not to spill anything.

She stepped away from the desk and gasped as she backed into something warm and solid. She hadn't heard Snape get up from his chair. He gently grasped her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. She kept her eyes lowered, afraid for him to see the lust still burning in her eyes. Not again, please… It took me long enough to calm down last time.

Unbidden her pulse began to race as Snape lifted her head up with one finger as his other hand slipped loosely around her waist. _Please… not more teasing…_ She'd tried to do as she'd been told, and think about what she wanted, what she was prepared to give him, but she'd barely been able to concentrate enough to prepare his food.

Her whole body had been humming with the unrelieved need that his hands had awoken in her. She had been unable to keep her hands from shaking as she'd moved the boiling pots around on the stove, almost burning herself several times in the process.

She had been able to think of nothing else but the way his hands had moved under her dress, his gentle caresses heating her body until she was desperately begging for more. And now his hands were on her again, and she prayed that he wasn't going to work her up and leave her hanging like he had an hour ago. Her eyes fluttered closed as she tried to block out the sensation of being so close to him again.

"Open your eyes, pet. Look at me."

She obeyed, peering up nervously through her eyelashes at the dark wizard looming over her. She went rigid as his face lowered over hers, the hand under her chin pulling her lips towards his. She expected him to take her mouth forcefully, as he had done before, and was surprised at the gentle way his lips touched hers, slowly caressing her closed mouth. Her gasp when she felt his tongue flick out to swipe across the crease of her mouth was barely audible, but Snape took advantage, pressing the wet muscle between her now open lips, and pulling the bottom one into his mouth to suck on it.

She barely noticed when she began to return the kiss. Before she knew it her tongue was pressing against his, demanding entry into his hot, wet mouth. _Yessss…._ She wrapped her arms around his waist as the hand under her chin moved round to the back of her head, the both of them pulling the other tighter against themselves. Hermione's eyes had long since closed again, and she was lost in the musky scent of him, the muscles of his back beneath her hands and the feel of his soft lips on hers.

The intensity of the kiss soon left her struggling for breath. As if by some unspoken signal, they both pulled away from each other simultaneously. Hermione gasped for air, her heart pounding so hard she could barely hear anything else. Snape seemed to be unaffected, as he watched her calmly while she tried to recover.

Hermione's forehead fell forwards onto his chest and rested there as she waited for her head to stop spinning. _Oh my Gods! I just snogged him. That was…. amazing!_ She could feel her cheeks redden at the thought. Her hands left his waist and came up to clutch at the material at the front of his coat, her fingers playing idly with the many buttons down the front.

As her breathing slowed and her head cleared, anxiousness began to set in. _What's going on? What is he trying to do to me? Why am I enjoying this so much? Gods… that kiss was…._ It was the best kiss she'd ever had. She felt suddenly frightened at just how much she was desperate for more. _What's happening to me? I'm supposed to hate him._

She felt his hands on her shoulders, tugging her away from his, and she looked up, still slightly dazed, to see Snape smirking down at her. He bent down to nuzzle at the sensitive skin below her ear. "You can't fool me pet. I know you want to be a good girl for me," he whispered huskily.

She couldn't deny it. She knew that wanting to please and be recognised for her achievements was an undeniable part of her personality. And now she was faced with the one person who had always refused to acknowledge her skills and knowledge, and hearing the words 'good girl' tumbling from his elegant lips made her desperately wish to be just that. _Is that all it is though? How can I feel this way about a man who hold me here against his will and forces himself on me whenever he wants?_

Maybe Snape had read her thoughts, or some part of her musing must have been showing on her face, for Snape pushed her fully out of his arms, and moved to sit down at his desk. "On your knees, pet, while you think." She made to kneel where she stood but Snape spoke again. "Not there, here." He pointed to a spot directly by his chair. She eyed him nervously but knelt where she was told before he could admonish her.

Ignoring her for the moment he reached across the desk to pull his tray in front of him, and began to eat. Every now and then his long robes brushed over her leg or arm, making her twitch. Her entire body was still sensitive from the memory of the kiss they had just shared. One half of her was appalled at the way she had begun to respond to the enigmatic wizard who held such power over her.

The other half, the part that was slowly getting stronger, was telling her to make the most of the situation she had found herself in. _It's not as if you didn't fancy him before all this started. Would it really be that hard to let him have what he can take by force anyway? At least you get some pleasure out of it too. And he's offered to teach you if you're good. Just think what you could learn from him. Besides, it could be worse. You could have been given to Malfoy or that werewolf. Maybe you still might be, if you don't do what he wants._ She shivered at the thought.

"Are you cold, pet?" His voice was almost tender as he paused to look down at her. Before she could answer he laid down his cutlery and extended his arm, wrapping part of his robe around her and tugging her closer. "Put your head down." He patted his lap and when she looked up at him in surprise, gently pushed her head down so her cheek was resting against his leg.

He picked up his fork again with his left hand and continued eating, his right lightly running through the hair that was now spread across his lap. The action was soothing, and soon she relaxed, turning her face into his thigh and inhaling the rich, warm scent that made something within her tighten pleasantly.

As Snape continued to eat he began to talk to her between bites. "I have some business to take care of for a couple of hours, so you'll have time to finish your chores, pet." "That'll give you some time to decide what you want." His hand continued to stroke her hair, his fingers sometimes brushing delicately across her cheek.

"If you've been a good girl, then after dinner maybe I'll let you read again" She must have made a sound at that, for he gave a low chuckle. "You'd like that pet?" She nodded against his leg. "Maybe later I can see how much you've remembered." She nodded again, more fervently, and he laughed again. She realised she liked the sound. "That's my little know-it-all." He spoke affectionately, and her heart swelled slightly at hearing the once hated nickname said in such a way.

She felt him lean back in the chair. "Up, pet. Time to get back to work." She climbed to her feet, staying besides the chair as his arm slipped round her waist again. He looked up into her eyes, and she wondered whether he was going to use Legilimency on her again, but a few moments passed and she didn't feel his presence in her head. "Choose well, pet," he said quietly. The corner of his mouth curled upward slightly. "You can go." He withdrew his arm.

She turned to leave, knowing already what her answer would be when he asked her later.

* * *

 

 

Hermione had finished all her chores, and she still had some time before she expected Snape back in his chambers for dinner, so she had returned to her room for a while. She was sitting quietly on the bed, running her brush through her bushy hair and thinking about all the possible ramifications of the choice she was about to make. She knew she was basically about to offer up her body in return for a slightly better life. Th _ere's a word for girls like that,_ a small voice whispered.

She was no fool. She knew that her life would still not be easy. She would still belong to Snape, his to command and to punish when the mood took him, and from experience she was under no illusions about the way he would continue to treat her. She would still be at the mercy of Voldemort, who could kill her without a moment's thought.

But she would have had to deal with all that in any case, and at least this way she would be able to learn something. It wasn't like Snape didn't already have access to her whenever he wanted, and in truth she was surprised at how rarely he had forced himself on her. _He could have been a lot rougher too. He could have done anything he wanted to me. Nobody would have cared._

Really, she thought, she wasn't really giving up anything. As strange as it still seemed to her considering the circumstances of her imprisonment, she _wanted_ to feel his hands on her. The thought of being held in his arms again, the sounds that he made as he thrust into her, and the way she knew he could bring her to an overwhelming orgasm made her throb between the legs. When had she gone from hating the sight of him to being so desperate for his touch?

She quickly lost herself in a daydream and was shocked when the door suddenly banged open, and the object of her thoughts stepped into the room with a swirl of robes. She threw down the brush and jumped off the bed, hurrying to kneel in her normal spot before she remembered that it wasn't morning.

Snape smirked as she dropped to her knees submissively before him. He waited a few moments before he bent over her and tilted her face up. "Did you make your decision, pet?" he asked in a smooth voice that sent a shiver straight down her spine.

"Yes… master," she whispered as his dark eyes bored into hers.

"Go on…" he drawled.

Her eyes darted away from his in embarrassment, unable to look at him now the moment was here. She fixed her gaze on one of the many buttons on his coat. "I'll be… good." Her words were barely audible.

"Look at me," he commanded. She did, and when she met his eyes again she swallowed nervously. "Don't mumble, pet. Tell me what you want."

"To be good…" She spoke slightly louder this time, and she knew he heard her that time.

"Say it properly then. Whose good girl do you want to be?" He almost sounded amused.

Hermione tried to blink back the tears of humiliation that were starting to well in her eyes. Why was he making this so hard. "I… I want to be your good girl, master." Her voice trembled as she spoke.

Tension that she hadn't even noticed before seemed to drain from his face. "Well done, pet. I'm glad." He gently brushed the tears from the corners of her eyes before backing away slightly, his face once more serious. "Now, there will be a few changes to the rules. You will continue with your chores, but when you have finished you will be allowed to read whatever material I deem appropriate. Do not let me catch you with a book in your hands until all your work is done. You will inform me when you have finished each book, and I will test how well you have retained the information.

"You will not to question my choice of book or the subject, although… you will be allowed, each evening to ask questions which will further your understanding of what you are studying. This does not give you carte-blanche to ask all the ridiculous questions that pop into your head. Do not make me regret allowing you this." Hermione nodded fervently, quickly forgetting her embarrassment as he continued.

"I trust you will not forget that all this rests on how well you manage to continue… pleasing me. Fail to do so and you will lose all your new privileges. The punishments that will follow will be far more severe than any you have received so far. Please me, and maybe I will reward you by allowing you to assist me in my lab sometimes. But first, you must… promise... Promise to please me, pet, as well as you are able to." His eyes fixed on her face and he watched her intently as he waited for her to speak.

Hermione couldn't help but feel excited. Not only would she have access to books and be able to study, there was a chance at actually doing some potion-making. She could barely believe it. All this for merely agreeing to something he already had from her.

She wouldn't lie to herself. Snape would be a difficult taskmaster, she knew from experience in his classroom, but she had always thrived on hard work and she was sure she could learn a lot from Snape. His methods had always been harsh, but she'd always felt pushed to improve, whereas she felt like Slughorn's easy-going lessons had taught her very little. Either way, it would make a welcome change from the hours of boredom she'd suffered through since returning to Hogwarts.

Without any further though she spoke. "I promise." Snape only raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. "I… I promise…" she took a deep breath, "to please you as best as I can." She knew what that would mean. A slight tingle seemed to run through her body as she said the words. _What was that? Some sort of spell?_ She looked at Snape suspiciously but he gave no indication that anything strange had happened.

"That's my good girl," he purred. "You may stand up." She got to her feet, wincing at the ache in her knees from the hard floor. "You will prepare dinner. Something light, I think. While I am eating you will take a shower, then return to me in the library." He reached out and wound a strand of her hair around a finger. "Make sure you wash this, pet."

He turned to go, then stopped, looking back at her. "Give me your hairbrush." She went across to the bed and grabbed the brush from where she had flung it upon his arrival in her room. She returned to him and held it out. Snape took it with a slight curl of his lips, and with one last glance at her, swept from the room.

* * *

 

Hermione nervously pushed the door to the library ajar. The damp hair that spilled down her back was soaking through her dress and making her feel itchy and uncomfortable. At least she was clean. Snape had even left her shampoo and conditioner to use, and some soap that smelled like him. She had enjoyed lathering herself up in his scent.

When she had closed her eyes she could almost imagine him in the shower with her. She'd grown wet at the thought, and only the knowledge that trying to pleasure herself wouldn't work had stopped her from slipping her hands between her legs and relieving the ache that was building there. Why is he all I can think about at the moment? Get a grip, Hermione!

"Don't linger in the doorway, pet. Come here."

With a trembling hand she pushed the door open wider and stepped in, feeling apprehensive about what was going to happen. She walked over to stand in front of Snape, who was sitting by the fire, nervously wringing her hands as he watched her silently for a few moments. He smiled darkly as he pulled out his wand before speaking.

"Sit here. Back to me."

Snape pointed between his legs and as she watched, he transfigured a small piece of cloth he held in his other hand into a cushion which he set down on the floor. Hermione frowned in confusion but did as she was told. She places her hands in her lap and waited.

There was a rustling behind her and she fought not to turn and see what he was doing. His arm suddenly came over her shoulder and she jumped in fright before realising he was holding the copy of _Moste Potente Potions_ she'd been reading before.

"Take it, pet."

She took it from him and laid it over her crossed legs, opening it and flicking through to the page she'd been on before. Almost immediately she was lost in the words before her, and when his hand came down to lift her hair off he back he barely noticed. However, when he started pulling her hairbrush through the tangled knot she squealed in pain as he tugged her head back.

"Please…sir…"

"Just how do you manage to get this through that tangled mane of yours, pet?"

It was perhaps the strangest question he had ever asked her, and she had to supress a giggle. "Ummm, I always start at the bottom and work up."

Without another word he began again. Doing as she had said. It still pulled a little, but she was used to that by now, and she was able to ignore it as she started to read again. This is so weird. Who would ever have imagined Snape doing this? As most of the tangles were pulled out she started to unconsciously lean into the hand that was running over her hair between brushed.

The combination of feeling clean, the rhythmic strokes through her hair and something to occupy her mind soon made her forget where she was, and she had soon relaxed enough to lean her cheek against Snape's knee as she continued to read. She failed to notice the missed brush of her hair as she did so.

"Master…?" She spoke hesitantly, unsure of her new ability to question him.

"Yes, pet?"

She lifted the book so he could see it over her shoulder, and then had to suck in a breath when he leant forward, ticking the hair at her temples with his breath as he looked at the page she was reading.

"I…er…" She fought to focus. "It… it says here that the powdered Graphorn Horn is added before the Beetle Eyes, but I'm sure I read somewhere about another potion that uses these two ingredients in the same order. It said that by combining the two before adding them to the potion improves the consistency as well as reducing the time it takes to prepare. Wouldn't doing the same thing here produce a similar effect?"

Snape leant back in his chair and was silent for a minute. Hermione began to grow anxious. _What did I say?_

"Where did you read that?" he asked eventually.

She thought for a moment then shrugged. "Maybe in Potions Weekly. I'm not sure. No…" She remembered suddenly. _Oh Gods, please don't be angry._ "It was… it was in your book. You know… the one Harry used last year." There was silence again, and she felt sick with worry that she'd displeased him already.

He surprised her. "It's a good idea, pet, but there is one problem with it. Tell me, looking at the order and timing for each ingredient, which are the two active ones?"

She lowered the book so she scan through the method again. _Well obviously it was…_ "the Ashwinder eggs and the beetle eyes…" Oh I see.

"Keep going…"

"In the Hiccoughing solution potion the beetle eyes are only a reactant, so mixing them with the powdered horn doesn't change the overall use of the potion, whereas if you did the same here, the eggs won't react with the eyes and it would be useless." She paused. "In fact, there's a good chance if you continued and added the fluxweed it would react with that instead and blow up."

"Quite spectacularly too, I would imagine," he said dryly. "Well reasoned, pet."

The brush strokes resumed. Hermione felt a flush of pride at his words. He'd never acknowledged her abilities in such a way before.

"What else did you read in my copy?"

"Not much really. Harry never let it out of his sight for long. I only got the chance to read a few of the notes you'd written, although I watched him using it in class. It was… frustrating. He never actually learned anything, just took the credit from following your notes."

"Can you remember what Potter did with it? It would be useful for you to study."

There was no point in hiding the truth. He'd be able to tell if he looked into her mind again. "Ginny helped him hide it in the Room of Requirement. She's probably the only one who knows where it is. She didn't let Harry look. After that fight with Malfoy…" She trailed off.

"Trust Potter to remember that one spell out of all the notes I wrote in that book. He was lucky it was me that found Draco, or he'd have been in serious trouble. As it was…" He stopped suddenly, leaving her to wonder just what he'd left unsaid.

By now all her knots had been untangled, and she heard him lean over and put the brush on the floor. There was another movement behind her and all of a sudden her hair was dry, springing out in a bushy halo around her head. _Damn._ She tried to run her fingers through it. _This is why I never use a drying spell._

Snape removed her fingers from her hair. "Leave it, pet."

She watched as he summoned a book from the desk, catching it deftly and setting it down on his lap behind her. One of his hands made its way into her hair, twirling it idly around his fingers as she heard him open the book. There was silence. He was obviously reading, so she settled back down with her book again.

* * *

It was getting late. Over the past couple of hours Hermione had asked a few more questions of Snape and had each time been cleverly helped to find her own answers. But neither had spoken in some time. The fire had burnt quite low in the grate and she hadn't heard Snape turn a page in some time. _Is he asleep?_ She didn't want to turn and check. His hand was still in her hair, although it had stopped moving a while ago.

Hermione had been finding it harder and harder to concentrate as the evening progressed, knowing what would likely be expected of her that night. She knew she wanted him, she was all too aware of the warmth emanating from the long legs stretched out on either side of her, and the thought of his fingers brushing over her skin was enough to make her flush. But there was still a small part inside her that was refusing to keep quiet. _This is wrong, Hermione. He's done something to you. Why aren't you fighting this…? Don't just give in._

_Too late for that,_ she thought. _I've promised now, and I don't really want to lose what I've got out of this already_. When was the last time she had had a nice evening like this? _Not since I got here, for sure. And before that… who knows..?_

Her legs were starting to cramp from having kept them crossed for so long. She lifted the book up off her lap and tried to stretch her legs without Snape noticing. No such luck. The moment she began to shift he spoke.

"It's late, pet. Go and get ready for bed."

_Whose bed though?_ she thought, as she stretched her legs out before her, rubbing the muscles to help take away the ache. She slowly got to her feet. "What should I do with this, Master? She held out her book.

"Leave it on the desk for tomorrow, pet. You may go," he added as he saw her pause for permission to leave.

* * *

Hermione left the bathroom feeling quite anxious, and wondering what she was supposed to do would. Was he expecting her in his bedroom? She worried at her bottom lip as she crept down the hall.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she was almost at her own room before she realised. The door had vanished. Guess that answers that question, she thought wryly. She rubbed her stomach lightly as butterflies started to flap.

Hermione flinched as suddenly a voice spoke in her ear. "You won't be needing you own room anymore," he said smoothly as he buried his nose in the back of her hair, pressing his body up against hers. A shudder ran through her, and she found it was hard to breathe. Her muscles seemed to have turned to stone and she couldn't move. _This is it…_

Snape pulled the hair back from the side of her neck and kissed gently behind her ear. The movement seemed to free her and she leaned back against him, tilting her head to one side so he could run his lips down to the top of her shoulder.

Without warning he stepped back, and let out a quiet chuckle as she moaned in disappointment. She faced him as he opened the door to his own room before turning back to her. His dark eyes studied her carefully as he held out a hand. She hesitated only a moment before putting her hand in his. As she did the lights in the hall went out, and Snape pulled her into his room.

 

 

 


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

I'd love to know what you think, especially about how their relationship is progressing. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Snape left her standing of the middle of the room while he went into the bathroom. The chandelier hanging from the ceiling was unlit, and the only light came from the sconces on the wall. She walked over to the bed and began to play idly with the edge of the blanket as her mind worked overtime. Why do I feel so nervous? It's not like it's my first time. She realised her hands were shaking and she tried shaking them to relieve the tension. I didn't seem to help much.

The door to the bathroom opened and Snape stepped back into the bedroom. He stopped and stiffened as he saw her standing by the bed, and she watched as a strange, almost haunted expression crossed his face.

She looked away, bashful under the weight of his gaze. Snape crossed the room, moving around the bed to tower over her. She still couldn't look at him. He didn't speak, instead holding out a small phial to her. She recognised it as the nightly potion she took, and drinking it quickly without question.

Snape pulled the phial out of her shaking hands and set it down on the table by the bed. Turning back to her he took hold of her wrists and placed them on the buttons at his collar. "Go on, pet," he urged gently. At least it was another excuse to keep her from looking up at him. She could feel his eyes on her the whole time as she worked her way down. His steady regard was playing havoc with her already shredded nerves and she wished he would look away.

A feeling of tightness was growing behind her ribs as she slowly exposed the starched white shirt under his long coat. Maybe it was a bit like her first time. It was certainly the first she would be an active and willing participant. Maybe that was why she was feeling this way. She could feel her eyes begin to prickle. _Oh Gods, I can't cry. What will he think?_ She blinked a few times and the feeling receded a little.

Finally she undid the last button and hesitated, unsure if he expected her to take it off for him. Snape then raised his arms, turning his wrists over so she could see where the fabric was fastened along the inside. The coat wouldn't be able to come off before it was undone.

She began pulling at the smaller buttons, but her fingers were clumsy and she found it difficult. Her eyes started to water again. Snape finally seemed to notice her shaking hands and he deftly caught them, holding them still between his larger ones.

"Look at me pet."

Hermione didn't want to let him see the tears that were waiting to fall, but she couldn't stop herself from lifting her head to face him. She could feel her bottom lip quivering as his eyes took in her pale, worried face.

"What's this about, pet?" He lifted his hand and brushed at her cheek and she realised with horror than she could feel wet tracks running down her cheeks. _Please don't be angry…please_. She wasn't even sure quite why she was crying. It was unlikely to please him though.

Hermione didn't even notice him slip into her mind at first, but she slowly became aware as he slipped through her memories of the evening, lingering particularly over the last few minutes. His presence was warm and comforting and she felt her tears begin to dry as she reached out with her consciousness towards him.

Suddenly he was gone, and she took a few seconds to come back to herself. She found herself pressed up against Snape, head tilted back with him hovering over her face, lips close to hers. Her eyes found his and she stared up at him, unblinking. Snape cupped her face with one hand as he pulled her closer with the other around her waist. She closed her eyes and pressed her cheek into his palm, finding a small measure of comfort in the gesture.

"It's ok to be nervous, pet. I know you want to please me."

Was that what it was? He must have seen something in her head that had convinced him of that, but she still felt confused about the whole thing. It was too late for further worrying now though, for Snape then bent down and brushed his lips over hers before pulling away.

"Get in the bed, pet. I'll finish this."

Grateful for his unexpected understanding she smiled at him shyly, meeting his eyes again for a fraction of a second before she stepped past him and clambered quickly beneath the sheets.

"You won't need the dress. Give it to me." He held out a hand.

Hermione flushed as she pulled the dress awkwardly over her head as she tried to keep herself hidden beneath the blankets. She handed the dress to Snape and quickly pulled the sheets up around her neck. He watched her for a moment, then with a slight shake of his head he laid her dress over the arm of the chair nearest the bed and began to undo the buttons at his wrists.

Hermione wanted to look away, but couldn't help but watch as he slowly peeled away his clothes, soon leaving himself clad in only the white shirt which was long enough to cover the tops of his thighs. The legs underneath were thin and pale, and covered with a fair amount of dark hair, although she didn't find them unattractive.

She studied the face that was half obscured in the dim lighting as he walked back towards the bed. She'd fancied him for a while, but now she realised just how handsome she found him. Even his large nose seemed to fit his face perfectly, and when his face wasn't pinched and tight with anger his lips were full and soft-looking, his high cheekbones well defined. What she'd seen of his body so far had by no means repulsed her, and she wished that he had taken off his shirt this time so she could see him completely.

Hermione became painfully aware of how he must see her. Biologically she was getting on for nineteen now, and she probably wouldn't fill out much more. She felt thin and boyish. The lack of interest from the boys in her peer group had long ago led her to believe that she was too plain to be noticed. Did Snape even find her attractive, or had he been forcing himself to take her, because she'd been given to him, and it was expected for him to treat her in such a way. Was that why he looked at her with such disgust sometimes?

She clutched the sheets tighter around her as he came to stand at the side of the bed. Would she even be able to please him? What would happen to her when she couldn't? Oh God, she was going to be given away, to the Malfoys or one of the other Death-Eaters, maybe Pettigrew or that werewolf. A wave of panic began to rise, and her breathing quickened as Snape sunk onto the bed, pulling the sheets on that side down.

His voice cut through her internal hysterics. "Stop worrying, girl. You're thinking so loud I can almost hear you." He turned to face her. Getting a good look at her face he frowned. "What now, pet?" He sounded irritated.

"I… what if I can't…please you?" She almost wailed.

Snape's face seemed to lose some of its tightness. "You will, pet," he assured gently.

He tugged on the sheet that she was clutching to her chest, and reluctantly she let it fall, baring her breasts. Blushing, she moved to cover herself with her hands, but Snape stopped her.

"No, pet. Let me see you." He put a hand on her shoulder and eased her back so she was lying propped up against the pillows. She was uncomfortably aware of the chill in the windowless room, her skin pebbling in the cold air as she felt her nipples hardening. Snape turned and stretched out his legs alongside hers, his upper body bent towards her. His hand trailed lightly across her shoulder and down to her breasts, flicking across one nipple then the other with his thumb as he cupped each one.

Hermione watched his face as he touched her. There was a strange intensity in his heavily-lidded eyes that she found impossible to read. She felt helplessly attracted to him, fear and excitement warring within her as his hands moved over her exposed body. Hermione's breath caught as a ripple of pleasure surged through her, leaving a dull ache behind her navel. As Snape's hand returned to caress her right breast she pushed up into it, and their eyes suddenly met.

His head bent towards hers and she watched him with wide eyes, expecting him to kiss her. She could feel his breath on her lips as he stopped short. "Still want to be my good girl?" he asked, pulling his hand away from her breast slightly so it hovered millimetres above her skin as he waited for her response.

He was so close she could smell him, the warm musky smell mingling with the scent of the lightly spiced soap of his that she had just used. It was a heady mix, and she found herself wondering whether he would taste as good as he smelled. She wanted to find out.

"Yes… please," she breathed, arching her back further, thrusting herself into his warm palm.

Snape smirked at her response as he shifted down again, before lowering his head, His mouth closed over one nipple as his hand squeezed her other breast. Hermione bit her lips to stop herself from whimpering as he sucked gently, causing fire to spread through her body. Her worries and feelings of awkwardness were quickly disappearing beneath the onslaught of sensations.

Hermione's hand left the sheets and she wrapped her fingers in the raven hair that was tickling her chest, pulling his head towards her, urging him on. Snape turned his attention to her other breast, lapping at the hard bud with his tongue. Hermione began to writhe under him, the heat in her core slowly building and pulsing, needing more. Somehow it felt wholly different to her previous experiences with him. It felt better. _Perhaps because you're not fighting it this time._

Without warning he pulled back, and she moaned with disappointment as the cold air washed over the wet bud he'd just abandoned. Grabbing the hand that was still tangled in his hair, and the other that had crept up to his shoulder, Snape twisted away from her, lying back on the bed and pulling her with him.

Hermione was now half sprawled across him, her wrists still firmly held in his grasp. Snape placed her palms down on his chest. She looked up at him questioningly, but he stayed silent, instead letting go of her and watching to see what she would do next.

Hermione swallowed nervously and looked down at her hands, unsure of what he wanted from her. He was still wearing his long white shirt. Was he expecting her to remove it? He hadn't seemed keen to before. She looked down his slender body, frowning slightly. Although the shirt had ridden up slightly at the bottom it still hid the beginning of a bulge that she wasn't sure she was ready for yet.

Hesitantly she lifted her hand to the top button, slipping it through the hole, and exposing the hollow at the bottom of his neck. The skin there looked soft, and before she knew it she was pressing her open mouth against it, lingering for a few moments when she realised he did taste as good as he smelled. There was a low rumble from Snape's throat and she pulled away from a moment, concerned, to find his dark eyes burning fiercely and his lips parted.

A trace of salt and sweet from his skin remained on her lips as she wet them with her tongue. She wanted more, and lowered her mouth to him again as her fingers fumbled with the next button. As more skin was exposed she swirled her tongue around the dip at the bottom of his neck and then skimmed along the curve of his collarbone that was visible.

She glance up towards his face again. His eyes were now closed. She continued, her confidence building slightly, but as she reached for the next button her hand was pulled away and held. She lifted her mouth from him in surprise and met his eyes. For a second he seemed somehow vulnerable, his expression tortured, but it was gone from his face so quickly she wondered if she had imagined it.

"No" he said firmly. "That's enough." He pushed her away from his chest, then guided the hand he still gripped down his body. Hermione stiffened as he wrapped her fingers around his erection, his larger hand over hers, encouraging her gently to stroke up and down the shaft.

The skin there was amazingly soft and smooth. She'd never done this before, or at least, she didn't think she had. _Who knows what happened in the last nine months?_ She didn't really have anything to compare it with, except diagrams from the odd book she'd read. It hadn't really prepared her for the reality though.

Snape's hand left hers, and she hesitated. Deciding that being shy about it wasn't going to get her anywhere, she knelt back and clambered over him to settle in between his legs, tugging his shirt up. Snape watched her languidly as she reached out to touch him again. Her fingers trailed up the underside, then around the tip. Snape made a low sound, and she felt his cock twitch in her hands.

Feeling bolder, she wrapped her fingers around the tip, running a thumb over the top and smearing the drop of pearly liquid that had collected there. On impulse she brought it up to her mouth, flicking her tongue out to taste it as her other hand grasped the base of his cock. It had a strange flavour, salt and something else. It wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Snape's hand came down over the one that was holding him. "Stop teasing, pet. It's not nice." His low, rough voice interrupted her musing, and she found Snape's gaze fixed on where she was still sucking the pad of her thumb. She lowered her hand and traced a finger idly across his thigh.

"Sorry," she whispered, biting her lips. "It's just… well… I don't exactly have much experience with this." She held his gaze, trying to tell him with her eyes just how desperate she was to please him.

Snape started at her for a few seconds, then began to move her fingers up and down his cock again. "It's not hard, pet. You won't hurt me." He squeezed her hand, tightening her grip on him, and after a few moments, left her to continue by herself. "Not too fast, pet," he groaned as she sped up slightly. "Yes…." He hissed, throwing his head back, as she found the right rhythm.

Hermione found herself enjoying the power she was currently wielding over the normally controlled and guarded man. _I wonder, what if I…_ She leant forwards and swiped her tongue along his length, before taking the tip into her mouth and twirling her tongue around in circles over his sensitive skin. She heard his loud moan, and felt his hands grab her shoulders, but before she could continue she found herself thrown off and pinned underneath him, his eyes flashing as he loomed above her.

"I told you… to stop… teasing," he growled, holding her against the mattress with his hips. His upper weight rested on the arms as he pinned her wrists alongside her shoulders. Hermione's eyes were wide and frightened as she looked up at him. Snape gave her no chance to apologise, instead pressing his lips to hers roughly for a brief second, before turning his attention to her neck, nipping and sucking his way down the side and then along the top of her shoulder. Her shock quickly dissipated beneath an onslaught of sensation.

Hermione could tell she would be bruised in the morning, but right then she couldn't care less. His mouth and teeth were creating the perfect mixture of pain and sheer bliss. She couldn't help the whimpering sounds that fell from her mouth as he moved down and caught her nipple in his mouth again, this time sucking hard and scraping his teeth across the hard bud.

He let go of her wrists and immediately she wound her arms around him, one at his hips and the other around his shoulder, so that she could pull him closer. Her legs fell open with the slightest encouragement from him and he pressed himself between her legs, grinding his hips against hers. She was burning with desire, every movement of his mouth on her skin making her squirm with the need for more.

Snape slid his hand in between them, searching for her centre, and as his fingers brushed across her clit her hips bucked wildly. She began to quiver, her hands clutching automatically at his shoulders as he slid a digit inside her. He swirled it around for a moment, making her groan and try to push into his hand. He didn't let her, instead pulling the finger back out and spreading the liquid around her tight bud. Gently his thumb began to flick back and forth across it as he continued to bite down on her breasts.

As she felt the pressure start to build she threw her head back. "Please," she begged, desperately needing release. His response was to thrust two fingers into her tight opening as his thumb continued to move across her clit. The sensation made her writhe and cry out with pleasure, and she rocked her hips back and forth, trying to create enough friction to push her over the end. "Please… I, I need…"

"What do you need, pet? Tell me?" he growled in her ear. He mouth had left her breasts, travelling upwards, and he now began to nibble at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

"More… please…" she breathed, grasping at the arm leading down between them.

"Ask me properly, pet. What do you want?"

"I want… you…please."

"Please, what?"

Through the haze engulfing her, she realised what he wanted to hear. "Please, Master. I… need… you…"

Quickly, he removed his fingers, and thrust into her in one swift movement and began to move back and forth, making her cry out. The feeling of his cock filling her tipped her over the edge and soon she was clenching tightly around him, arching her back and shuddering.

Snape continued to slam into her as she came down from her high. She ran her hands up and down his back, clawing and digging her nails into him as she undulated her hips, urging him on. She clenched her muscles around him as he plunged particularly deep inside and she heard him grunt in response. She tried it a few more times, and soon he was cursing softly under his breath.

He began to shake with effort and she could tell he was close. With a wordless cry he came, burying himself between her legs a last few times as he released himself inside her. She could feel him still shaking as he pressed his face into her neck, his breath ghosting over her sensitive skin as his chest heaved.

After a few moments he went silent and still. His weight rested on his forearms either side of her, his hips pressing her hard into the mattress. Hermione stayed quiet, not knowing what he expected of her, especially now she was to be sharing his bed. The absence of sound seemed suddenly strange, and only now did she become aware of the buttons of his shirt digging uncomfortably into her chest and stomach.

After a minute or so Snape rolled off to the side, and lay on his back, his breathing returning to normal. Hermione risked a glance at him. He had his eyes closed, his shirt clinging damply to his skin. Relaxed and tired, he almost looked like a different man. As if he could feel her observation, he opened his eyes, his hard gaze falling on her. She shivered under his scrutiny, wrapping her arms around herself and looking away.

She felt, rather than saw him move, and suddenly the candles went out, plunging the room into utter darkness. She could hear Snape rusting about, the mattress shaking slightly, and then there was the soft sound of material hitting the floor.

Hermione gasped as Snape grabbed her by the waist. He turned her away then dragged her towards him, her back to his chest, and she realised he had finally removed his shirt. She was grateful for his warmth as her naked body was quickly cooling in the frigid air. Snape reached down and pulled the covers up over the both of them before laying his arm over her and holding her possessively against him.

Hermione closed her eyes, a wave of exhaustion crashing over her, and she wriggled slightly in Snape's arms, making herself comfortably and pushing herself tighter against him, revelling in the feel of his arm around her.

As her breathing deepened and she began to drift, she felt Snape slowly dip his head to nuzzle behind her ear, breathing in deeply.

"Whom do you belong to, pet?" he murmured in a soft voice.

"'I'm yours," she whispered back. She meant it.

"Mine," he agreed sleepily.

* * *


	27. Reflection

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Snape woke sometime in the early hours of the morning to find himself lying on his back, the girl half-sprawled across his chest, one of her legs entwined with his. He lay still for a while, just enjoying the feel of her in his arms. He could feel her bushy hair tickling his shoulder and neck, and he lowered his head and sunk his nose into the curly strands before he could stop himself. _Make the most of this while you can._

The smell of her hair was intoxicating, and it made him think back to the moment she'd been unbuttoning his coat and he'd first caught the scent of his own soap on her skin. A wave of possessiveness had engulfed him, and he'd been hard pressed to hold himself back from throwing her on the bed and burying himself inside her. Luckily he'd noticed her distress, although it had taken a little while before he'd trusted himself to speak and find out what was worrying her.

The girl shifted in his arms and rolled away, leaving him feeling cold and disappointed. _Get a grip,_ he snarled inwardly. _The girl will be out of here the moment she gets the chance, back into the arms of that idiotic red-head. Not that you'll likely be round to see that happen._ Feeling maudlin, he acted on his sudden urge to look at her, reaching over quietly for his wand, and, checking that her breathing was still steady and deep, disillusioned one of the high windows.

Immediately, gentle moonlight bathed the room, throwing all the shadows to the dark corners, and the body of the young woman beside him into sharp relief. She didn't move as the light hit her. Snape watched her for a few moments, brooding silently. The sheets had slipped down off her arm, leaving her back uncovered from the waist up. Snape reached out slowly and lifted up hair higher up the pillow, exposing the nape of her neck. Her skin almost glowed in the soft white light, clear and unblemished, like the girl herself.

_Foolish old man,_ he told himself. _She'd never want you. And what would you do with her if you had her? She's not the sort of girl who would put up with coming second best to a memory._

_But Lily walked away when she saw something she didn't like. This girl knows what you are, has experienced it first-hand, and yet still chooses to help you. Surely that means something?_

_No… I loved Lily, look how that turned out. Never again._

Snape continued to study the sleeping girl, running his eyes over the gentle curve of her waist, the skin at the crook of her neck that he knew was so soft beneath his mouth. He wanted to press his lips to it again, to hear her quiet moans as he did so. She was so perfect, so pure, despite what he had put her through. Too good for someone like him.

He glanced down at his chest, and ran a finger across one of the longer scars carved there as he compared his maimed body to hers. He was her opposite in every way. She was light and beauty, and he was all darkness. He'd have to be blind not to want her. Who wouldn't want something so lovely? He knew that if the Dark Lord prevailed he would do his best to keep her, provided he himself survived. The vows he hoped she would take would go a long way towards that end, although, of course, there were no guarantees.

Snape sighed quietly. Maybe it was his lot in life to want what could never be his. He couldn't lie to himself that he did want the girl, but he knew he would never be what she wanted or needed. It would be for the best that he didn't survive if the Dark Lord was defeated. At least then the girl would never have to face him again once this was all over.

He lifted his wand, and, with one last glance at her sleeping form, hid the window again. The room plunged into darkness once more. Snape carefully shifted on the bed, moving up behind her close enough to smell the light perfume of her hair, but not near enough that they were touching.

He knew he would have to start being firmer with the girl. He had told himself this countless time, and yet had not managed to take his own advice yet. The Dark Lord was already suspicious, and Snape knew he was treating her far better than someone in her position could expect, despite constantly warning himself to be harder on her.

His mind kept returning to the way she had touched him with her hands and her mouth. He'd felt himself losing control and he'd had to stop her quickly and take charge of the situation. She had got under his skin so quickly, bringing out feelings he'd kept buried and frozen deep within. It was putting both their lives in danger. If the Dark Lord realised that he felt anything for the girl beyond disgust at her blood heritage, he would likely be dead, and the girl would probably wish for the same before too long.

He needed to push the girl away again, yet he still needed her to want him enough to make the next vow. Snape lay quietly in the dark for a while longer, trying to decide on the best course of action. Whatever he ended up doing would of course be painful for the girl, especially until the potion she had recently taken began to wear off, but it would be necessary. They were running out of time.

His focus was constantly interrupted by stray thoughts of the girl. Lying so close beside her, with her light scent surrounding him, the warmth from her body caressing him, he found himself growing hard. Maybe he should just take her now, claim her and do whatever he wished with her. The Dark Lord had given her to him, after all. She wasn't exactly in a position where she would refuse him anything. _You promised her… you said you wouldn't take advantage._

Snape tried to take his mind off what he wanted to do to the girl by forcing it back to the problem at hand. Before long he had decided what he would do. Finally felt his arousal abating, although he knew it wouldn't take much for it to reappear. Still, he couldn't stop himself from moving closer to the girl and tugging the sheets up over her cold skin, before wrapping his arms around her once more.

He nuzzled gently at the back of her neck, breathing in the heady mix of his own scent blended with hers. He knew his behaviour was directly at odds with the course of action he would have to follow, starting in the morning. _What she doesn't know can't hurt._ Her presence in his arms was soothing, and he soon found himself drifting back off to sleep. His last thoughts before he succumbed were of how pleasant it was to hold her, and wishing he could spend every night the same way.


	28. Chapter 28

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Hermione could feel something tickling the inside of her thigh. She groaned sleepily and brushed it away. The feeling quickly returned, moving upwards slowly. A wet sensation at her collarbone joined the first. She fought to stay asleep but it was a losing battle. _Go away…_ She tried to roll over, swiping hard at whatever was now moving down her chest. There was a loud smack. The answering growl finally woke her up. _Something's in my bed!_ "Get off me!" She sat up with a yell, only to feel her chest connect with something hard.

The last traces of sleep leaving her, she suddenly realised where she was, and just who was leaning over her with an extremely irate look on his face. _Oh shit…_ She scrambled backwards so she could sit up fully. "Master… I'm so sorry… Did I…?

She reached to touch his face where a red mark was forming from where she had hit him, but he jerked away from her outstretched hand and before she could move again, he grabbed her by the hair, dragging her towards him. His other hand was raised to strike her, and she closed her eyes and dug her fingers into the shirt he was now wearing in anticipation of the blow. It never came. After a few moments she opened her eyes cautiously.

"You wish to renege on your promise already? Or are you stupid enough to think that sort of behaviour will please me?" he thundered, pulling hard on her hair. He had lowered his hand, but she could still feel him shaking with anger.

"No, please. I forgot where I was. I wasn't refusing to do what you want. I didn't realise…" she pleaded as he let go suddenly and moved to get off the bed. "Please…" She reached out at grabbed him by the wrist, but he only snarled and threw her off.

"You dare touch me?" he hissed, standing up and walking away. "Get out, you have work to do. You will return to your own room once finished. I will deal with you later."

"No… please!" she cried, throwing herself off the bed and to the floor in front of him. "I didn't know it was you. I'm sorry!" She crouched on her knees, head lowered and utterly distraught, the force of her emotions surprising her. She couldn't stand the thought of being sent back to her own room that evening by herself. The probable loss of her other privileges paled in comparison. "Please don't be angry with me, master," she whispered. "I'll do anything… anything for you."

There was silence and she found herself holding her breath as she waited for his response. He hadn't left the room, but his reticence frightened her. She trembled as she fought to hold back her tears when the silence stretched on. _Please forgive me._

Suddenly his hand was in her hair again. She was dragged upright and her head yanked back. Cold, angry eyes bored into her own. Hermione felt the tears spilling down her cheeks and she began to sob when he still didn't speak. When he released her she fell to the floor again, believing that she wasn't going to get another chance.

"You still wish to please me, girl?" His voice was still hard and bitter, but she only knew that she seemed to be getting a chance at redemption. She was so desperate for it that in that moment she would have done anything to get it.

"Yes, Master, anything…. Please," she whispered head down, hardly daring to hope.

There was silence again for a few moments before he spoke. "Go kneel on the bed."

She scrambled to obey, scrubbing at the wetness on her cheeks as she did. She crawled onto the bed and knelt, looking back at Snape to see what he wanted her to do next.

"Wait there and don't move." He turned and went through the door to his lab. He was gone a few minutes and she began to shift uncomfortably on her knees, her anxiety mounting again. _What's he doing in there?_ Eventually the door banged open and Snape stalked back through. Hermione's eyes went straight to the angry handprint on his cheek. _I can't believe I did that._

Snape climbed on the bed quickly and grabbed her, pinning her down to the mattress. She could feel his hard cock pressed up against the outside of her thigh, and she suddenly felt a rush of desire course through her. Why is this turning me on so much?

"You still wish to continue, girl. You want to redeem yourself?"

She nodded her head furiously, half distracted by the soft velvety feel of his erection against her skin. She'd do anything for him. She wanted him too much to be able to deny him anything he asked. Strangely enough the thought didn't frighten her. _When did I start feeling like this?_

Snape rolled over, pulling her on top of him, and yanked her legs to either side of his waist so she was straddling him. "Go on girl, show me how much you want to please me." He let go of her wrists, and she pulled them back, unsure if she was allowed to touch him. She thought for a moment. It was obvious what he wanted her to do, and she was actually quite eager to try it, but she wasn't quite sure what she should do.

"What are you waiting for?" he growled impatiently.

She worried at her lip nervously as she scooted backwards slightly on his lap, raising herself awkwardly over him. Looking up at his face once more, she gently grabbed his hard shaft, pressing it to her entrance before slowly lowering herself onto it. She was tight but wet, and her legs were aching before he was completely buried inside her. It felt completely different from the previous times, the angle pushing him far deeper than ever before.

She squeezed her inner muscles experimentally, making Snape hiss. "Get on with it, girl."

She raised herself off him slightly before sinking back down. This was harder than she thought. Leaning forward and putting her hands either side of him she managed to move her hips up and down a few times. The feel of his cock sliding in and out of her groan with pleasure.

She felt she was finally getting the hang of it, feeling confident enough to start rocking her hips slightly at the same time, grinding hard against him. _This feels so… good!_ But a look at Snape's face made her falter in her new-found rhythm. He was yet to make a sound, although his lips were parted slightly, his eyes fixed on her. She ground to a halt. "What the matter? Am I doing it wrong?" she whispered anxiously.

Snape didn't answer, instead pushing her roughly to one side and off him, before climbing to his knees, turning her away from him and pushing her head down to the mattress. Breathing heavily and trying not to cry, she felt him line up his cock at her entrance. His sudden hard plunge into her made her squeal.

He continued to pump into her, his thrusts getting harder and faster, and she began to cry out, whether in pleasure or pain she wasn't sure. He was being far rougher with her than any time since the first, and she couldn't understand how wet and aroused it was making her. Her upset now forgotten, she could feel her inner walls tightening around him as he pounded against her, holding on tight to her hips to stop her from flying into the headboard.

She could hear him grunting with the effort of maintaining his fast pace. Before long he began to shake and she knew he was close. She began to push back in time with his thrusts, moaning loudly as she did so, and the added friction took him quickly over the edge.

He pulled away from her immediately and rolled off the bed, leaving her once again unfulfilled and empty. She couldn't care less though, her only thought was for him, and whether he was still upset with her. He was walking towards his lab again, about to leave her without speaking a word.

"Please, Master…" she beseeched, unwilling to let him go without knowing where she now stood. "Are you…. Did I…please you?"

He whipped round to look at her, his eyes blazing, an almost visible aura of energy around him. In that moment he looked fierce and powerful, despite his state of undress. She found unable to look away, realising she had never felt so drawn to him as she was in that moment. His next words broke the spell he had her under, when she realised how angry he still was.

"Think about what you really want girl," he spat. I won't be so forgiving if you dare to raise a hand to me again, deliberately or not. Now… get to work." He turned on his heel and strode into his lab, slamming the door closed behind him.

Hermione huddled on the bed for a few moments, barely managing to contain her tears. Eventually she got down, scurrying across to where her dress lay on the chair and pulling it on quickly. With one final sad glance at the door through with Snape had disappeared, she left the room.

 

* * *

 

Snape listened impatiently, his back pressed against the wooden door and his mind fixed on the hurt look in her eyes as he'd told her to get out. The memory of her begging to know if she'd pleased him after he'd used her so roughly made him feel sick, and he could feel himself trembling from holding his emotions in check.

As soon as he heard the girl leave his bedroom he let go of the fury that had been building inside him. Bottles went flying as he swept them off the long wooden table with his arms, a cauldron full of an unfinished potion spilling over onto the floor as he knocked it off its perch.

In a minute there was only one half empty phial left standing at the far end of the table, beyond his reach. Snape eyed it angrily. He strode down the room and snatched up the bottle, holding it tightly in his shaking hand. Since getting the girl to agree to doing whatever he wanted he had hoped not to have to drink the potion again. He'd not needed it last night, and when he'd decided to wake the girl up a short while ago, he'd already been hard and ready at the sight and feel of her lithe body before him.

He'd been truly angry when she'd slapped him before knocking into him as she sat up. The last time anyone had touched him physically like that had been when he was much younger. He'd been cursed and hexed more times than he could count, but the last person to hit him was his father. He'd seen red when she'd hit him, and reacted automatically, only hanging onto his temper by the barest thread.

The sight of her frightened little face steeling herself for the blow she had expected had broken through his fury, and he'd lowered his hand, his anger dissipating instantly. He'd realised then he could use her reaction to being woken up as an excuse for getting some much needed distance from her for a while. He hadn't counted on her throwing herself to the floor and begging him to forgive her. He'd been unable to speak for a few moments, and when he had, it had been hard to keep the rage in his voice.

He'd known it would appear strange if he didn't take advantage of what she was offering so earnestly, but by then his arousal was long gone, and he knew it wouldn't be returning without help. He'd had to search for the potion in the back of the cupboard where he'd thrown it a week or so previously, when the girl had become more willing, and he had no longer needed it to force an erection.

He'd taken the small sip that was all that was needed, grimacing as the bitter taste reminded him of the night he had first drunk it, knowing that he would be unable to force himself on the girl without taking it. He could still see the terror in her eyes as he'd dragged her out of bed and pressed her up against the wall. At least this time she was willing.

_The girl's not in her right mind. She's only acting like this because she insisted you dose her up with a lust potion. She'd never want you this way without it. It's no different to when you forced yourself on her before, just because she's begging for it this time. This is it. I'm done… finished! The girl will be leaving tonight. I don't care what the old man says, I can't do this anymore._

_You must… you know what's at stake. She's willing to do what must be done, you can't give in now. So many years, and finally we're so close to ending it all. It's too late to change your mind. Everything you've put her through will have been for nothing._

"Fuck," he screamed, uncharacteristically letting his temper get the better of him. He slammed the phial down on the counter, barely feeling the shards cutting into his hand and the cold liquid slopping over him as it smashed on the hard surface. He sank down slowly onto the floor, his arms resting on his bent knees and watched apathetically as the blood ran down his fingers and trickled onto the floor.

He sat there for ten minutes, until the wounds began to clot around the glass still embedded in his hand. He got shakily to his feet, gritting his teeth as he carefully pulled the larger pieces out. Some were too small to get with his fingers, so he crossed the room to his cupboard to find something he could use.

He hissed loudly as he pulled the last few shards out, placing them with the other blood-stained pieces on the wooden counter. Then he went back to look for a basic healing potion he knew he had somewhere in his stores. Searching through the countless phials to find the one he wanted his eyes were automatically drawn to a medium-sized bottle at the front that he had been using regularly. He knew this would be another such time.

Finally he found what he was looking for, and he quickly downed it, watching as his hand quickly healed, leaving only faint red lines where before there had been nasty weeping gashes. He used his wand to scourgify the rest of the blood away before reaching back into the cupboard and pulling out the bottle he'd noticed before.

It was full of a silvery blue substance that glowed eerily. He swirled it gently and watched as his memories spun around inside the container. He felt the last vestiges of his anger slowly disappearing. _She will understand, one day._ He still felt uncomfortable at the thought of her being privy to such personal moments, but he felt he needed to do this, for her.

Finally calm again, he grabbed his wand, pressing it to his head and concentrating on his memories of the last hour. When he pulled away a thin silvery thread was attached to the end, and he deposited it into the phial, watching it pulsate gently as it was pulled in to swirl around with the rest of his memories.

With one final look, he turned to leave the lab, taking the phial with him. He decided he would leave it elsewhere, so that it would be safe from prying eyes but somewhere that she would be able to access so that in the event of his death, the girl would be better able to understand why he had done what he did. It was the least he could do for her.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

That whole day passed slowly for Hermione. Time seemed to stretch as she went about her usual chores. She began to feel lightheaded and sick from all the worrying. Snape hadn't stayed for breakfast. He'd been leaving the library as she came along the hall with a tray, and had only given her a quick scowl before striding away down to his office door and disappearing through in a flap of long black robes.

He'd been sullen still at lunch too, not speaking to her except to instruct her to kneel while he ate, and to take away the tray and get out once he'd finished. She'd knelt in silence, her knees slowly going numb from the hard floor, and a painful ache behind her ribs. He'd not looked at her once.

She was dreading the coming evening, not knowing what to expect from him. Was she going to be punished, her privileges taken away, or sent away from him and given to another one of Voldemort's followers? The anxiety was eating at her and she could think of nothing else all day. She could understand that he was angry at being hit like that, but surely he could understand it was a complete accident and she would never do such a thing on purpose. She just wanted to please him, and it was killing her to see him so distant and uncaring.

Despite the distractions of her thoughts, Hermione managed to complete her work not long after lunch. The door to her own bedroom had not reappeared, which was some small comfort, but she was uncertain what to do or where to go for the rest of the day. Eventually she decided to go in search of the potions book she had been reading.

She slipped quietly into the library to search. She'd realised earlier while cleaning that it wasn't on the desk where she'd left it the previous night, and it wasn't lying around anywhere obvious. She took a peek at the stack of books on the desk, but all of the titles swam before her eyes, making her feel dizzy, and she didn't recognise any of the bindings.

Snape must have moved it, either replacing it back on the shelf or hiding it away somewhere. Either way it meant she wouldn't be able to read this afternoon. Even if he'd returned it to the shelf there was no way for her to find it without making her head hurt by reading the spines, and it was already aching from the worrying she'd been doing all day.

Hermione felt crushed. The loss of the book made her fear the worst. Maybe her own room hadn't returned because she would no longer be staying with Snape. Maybe he was so cross that he wanted rid of her.

She flopped down into the chair by the desk, head in hands and began to cry quietly. He hated her, and she was going to be given to another Death-Eater. She wanted to stay with him. She couldn't imagine leaving. She'd enjoyed the previous evening far more that she would have ever believed possible only a few days ago.

She'd learnt so much just by asking him a few questions. He had encouraged her, not deriding her for any mistakes and praised her when she'd worked out the answers for herself. It had been everything she'd ever wanted from the harsh, demanding potions master. Later that evening, she'd been so nervous, and yet so aroused by what he was doing to her body. She wanted to please him, to show him how she felt, but how could she when he wouldn't even look at her?

Ten minutes or so later the tears had begun to run dry, leaving her puffy eyed and tired. She wiped away the last traces with the hem of her dress. She was just going to get on with it, and hope for the best. It wasn't like she had a choice either way. _You could make an effort to show him how much you want to stay with him._

She looked down at the crumpled fabric in her hands. Her dress was dusty and stained from cleaning and scrubbing. And her arms and legs were dirty too. She wasn't sure quite how there managed to be so much dirt to clean each day, but she always ended up with buckets of dirty water from scrubbing the floors and filthy cleaning rags. She'd quickly learnt to do any washing before she started cleaning otherwise she'd end up making it dirtier than ever.

Hermione decided that if she wanted to make a good impression that evening the first thing to do would be to make sure she was as clean and tidy as she could manage. She left the library and rushed down to the bathroom to grab a clean towel to wrap around her and then into the kitchen where she proceeded to remove her dress and left it to soak for a short time in hot soapy water.

While she waited she gave her hair a good detangling with the brush she'd found where Snape had left it on the floor by the armchair while cleaning earlier. Hopefully it would have time to dry naturally, instead of turning into a poufy mess again after the drying charm that Snape had used.

Once her hair was tangle-free she went back to her dress and scrubbed it, taking her time to make sure every last mark had gone, before rinsing it and laying it out over the range. She smoothed it out carefully so it wouldn't wrinkle as it dried. She was very lucky there was an old-fashioned range in the kitchen. It stayed on all the time and kept the room warm, making drying clothes and other laundry that much quicker.

She then went to the bathroom to take a shower. Pulling off her towel, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her sad reflection stared back at her. She looked a mess, her hair horribly frizzy even though she'd just brushed the knots out. Her face was red and splotchy from crying and her eyes were dull. She'd dropped a few pounds over the past few weeks, and her already slender frame had lost most of the few curves she'd had.

She made up her mind to eat something before Snape came back. Maybe a good meal would help brighten her up a little, and she'd probably need the energy to get through the night, not having eaten more than a few bites at lunch and nothing for breakfast. She'd felt too sick to try anything.

She turned from the mirror, turning on the shower and letting it warm up before climbing in. After rinsing out the shampoo she used extra conditioner in the hope it would tame some of the frizz. She wanted to look her best for him that evening.

She almost cried against when she grabbed his soap to wash her body. The smell reminded her painfully of the previous night, lying in his bed discovering the taste of his skin, and later, wrapped up under his sheets and in his arms, the musky scent of him surrounding her as she fell asleep. She washed the lather off as quickly as possible, but the smell lingered strongly, even after she turned off the water and dried herself.

She brushed her hair in front of the mirror, noting that her face looked a lot less puffy now, although it was still quite flushed, hopefully from the heat of the shower. There was little she could do about the melancholy look in her eyes, but at least she looked better than she had before.

When she had finished with her hair she returned to the kitchen, glancing at the clock for the time. She still had plenty of time before she needed to start dinner. She pulled up a stool by the range, checking first on her dress and then sitting down and huddling close to the heat of the oven. She started combing her fingers through her damp tresses, trying to encourage them to dry as straight as possible.

As she sat she tried to think of ways to get herself back into Snape's good graces as quickly as possible, but with all the restrictions placed on her it was hard to think of anything she could do without breaking the rules and making him even more irritated.

She was pretty sure that trying to talk to him would not be well received, and there was nothing she could think of to do for him. _Except in the bedroom of course…_ But her efforts hadn't seemed to be particularly well received that morning. She would just have to do everything he asked of her to the best of her abilities, and take any opportunity that presented itself. She'd do anything to take things back to the way they had been the previous night. _Anything…_

 

* * *

 

Hermione tapped timidly at the door to the library, balancing the tray in her other hand.

"Come in," came the voice from the other side.

She opened the door and entered, head carefully down. She crossed the room and laid the tray on the desk. Snape was sitting in his armchair with a book and not at the table, but as soon as Hermione had put his dinner down she dropped immediately to the floor, kneeling in her usual spot. She kept her eyes glued to the floor, not daring to look up at him.

After a minute or so, Snape rose from the chair and seated himself behind his desk, ignoring her completely. He pulled the tray in front of him and began to eat.

Before long, Hermione's legs were aching from the position she was stuck in, but she didn't dare move. Snape seemed to be taking longer than usual to eat, reading from a stack of parchment besides his tray. She snuck a quick peek up at him. Judging by the frown on his face he didn't like whatever it was he was seeing.

She saw his face turn towards hers slightly, and she lowered her eyes quickly back to the floor before he saw her looking. Maybe he wasn't completely ignoring her then. _Or maybe he wasn't looking at you at all._ She wasn't brave enough to look up again, so she was surprised when Snape spoke, pushing the tray to the side.

"Get rid of that tray and come straight back here," he ordered.

His tone was harsh and she cringed inwardly. She was sure when she returned she was going to be punished. She grabbed the tray and fled as fast as her sore legs could take her. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks as she quickly rinsed the dishes and left them to dry, before running straight back to the library, only pausing outside long enough to dry her face.

Hermione knocked and waited for permission to enter. Once she was back in the room she stopped, waiting to see what he wanted from her.

"Back where you were, girl."

She obeyed quickly, her tired limbs protesting at being forced back into a kneeling position. Snape was still sitting at the desk, now scribbling furiously across the stack of parchment he had been reading earlier.

The silence stretched on, the only sounds the scraping of the quill Snape was using and an occasional angry mutter that she couldn't make out clearly. Hermione's legs were cramping worse than before, her knees were killing her, and after about half an hour she could feel them start to shake from the effort of staying still. She tried unobtrusively to flex her muscles, but it barely gave her any relief. She gritted her teeth and did her best to stay upright.

Another thirty minutes later and she was biting down on her bottom lip to stop herself crying out with the pain. The joints in her knees felt like they were burning and she didn't think she would last much longer. She wished Snape would just hurry up and dole out her punishment. At least then she would be able to move. She shifted a foot slowly underneath her, pulling her toes up so as to stretch her calf.

A searing jolt ran through the muscle and Hermione struggled to hold back her cry of pain. She grabbed the offending leg, digging her fingers in and trying frantically to ease the cramp. _So much for doing everything perfectly._ The scratching of quill on parchment didn't pause, Snape acting like he hadn't noticed her.

She was going to have to get off her knees, unable to take any more. She'd tried her best but he wasn't being fair leaving her on the floor for so long. Tears of frustration started to well in her eyes. Why was he making such a big deal about something that was just an accident? She would never have done such a thing on purpose. How could he treat her so badly when all she wanted to do was please him?

"M… Master…" she whispered, unable to contain herself any longer. He ignored her. She tried again, a little louder. "Please… Master…"

"Be silent."

"But I…"

Snape hissed and grabbed the wand that was lying on the table and flicked a wordless jinx at her. It stung terribly, heat coursing through her and making her muscles spasm. She yelped as she fell to the floor.

"Get up and go stand by the wall since you can't manage to stay still," he snapped, gesturing to a bare stretch by the door.

Hermione shakily got to her feet, surprised to find most of the ache in her lower limbs had gone, and she could stand up easily. _That hex must have done something to my muscles_. Still, she was glad to change position and stretch her legs. She stood where she had been told, irritated with herself for having annoyed him. She stayed there for at least another hour, head down and trying not to shake with anticipation of the punishment she was sure was forthcoming.

"What ingredient is added after fluxweed when brewing Amortentia, and why is it not added before?" Snape snapped suddenly.

Hermione jerked in surprise, his question unexpected. For a moment her mind was blank and she couldn't reply.

"It's not a difficult question girl. Answer it."

"Uh…" She thought quickly. "Graphorn Horn, er… powdered… is added after fluxweed. It must be added beforehand otherwise it becomes a fairly impotent lust potion."

Snape gave no reply, instead pulling another piece of parchment across the table towards him and starting to scribble across it.

_Did I get it right? Oh Gods, maybe it was the beetle eyes, not the horn…_

Snape didn't speak again for another 10 minutes.

"Why does the recipe for Garroting Gas require dittany to be shredded and not chopped?"

This time she was ready for him.

"Because chopping it causes too much of the sap to be lost whereas shredding helps it retain the moisture. If the dittany loses too much sap the potion will most likely explode when the wormwood essence is added."

Again there was no response from him. Hermione lowered her head again. She didn't know what to think. There was silence again for a while.

Snape stood all of a sudden, throwing his quill down on the desk. She heard him stalk across the room and saw as his boots came to a halt in front of her.

"Look at me."

She lifted her head. His dark, solemn eyes bored through her. She felt suddenly frightened at something in his expression, and tried to press herself back against the wall. Snape moved closer, looming over her, dominating her. Something in her chest fluttered at the feel of his body against hers. He grabbed her face with both hands, their eyes still locked together. She longed for him to kiss her, to possess her completely. She wanted to be his.

He didn't move any closer, and she could feel the disappointment coursing through her. The intensity of his gaze was too much for her so she lowered her eyes submissively. Snape withdrew slightly, his hands leaving her face. He picked up a lock of the hair she had worked so hard to tame, and looked at it dispassionately. She waited eagerly for him to say something about her appearance, but he only dropped it and turned away.

He pulled out a phial from his robe and set it on the desk.

"Drink it and go to bed."

Hermione didn't move. He was obviously still displeased with her, and she didn't know where he meant for her to sleep, but didn't dare speak up to ask him. Snape sat down in the armchair with a quiet sigh before looking round and realising she hadn't moved.

"What is it, girl? Go on, speak up."

"I… Where do you want me to sleep, master?"

Snape looked confused for a second, before realising what she meant. "The same place you slept last night, stupid girl. Where else did you think you would be sleeping?"

Hermione shook her head silently, having no answer, but inside she was rejoicing. _He's not sending me away from him. He still wants me, even if he is still cross with me!_

Snape glared at her. "Why are you still here? I told you to go to bed. Get out!"

"Yes Master," she squeaked, and ran across the room to down the potion before hurrying out.

Hermione used the bathroom quickly before going to the bedroom and sitting on the bed to brush her hair out. She felt disheartened at the lack of notice she had got from Snape. He had only seemed to get more irritated with her before. She was surprised not to have been punished that evening. _I don't understand him._

She realised all of a sudden that she'd been sitting there for a while running her brush through already detangled hair. With a sigh she stood up, laying it down on the bedside table and crossing the room to the chair. She grabbed the hem of her dress, drawing it up and over her head.

Her hands were still tangled in the sleeves when two arms slid around her waist from behind, making her jump. She quickly relaxed into his embrace, letting him pull her naked body against his chest as he tugged the dress away from her, dropping it on the floor. She leaned back on him, her heart pounding as she wondered what he wanted with her.

For a few moments they stood in silence, before he suddenly whirled her around and slammed her up against the wall. Before she was steady on her feet again he was delving into her mind.

A few minutes later he was pulling out again and she sagged against him in exhaustion. He had pulled apart everything she had done that day, examined every emotion and thought. _Do you believe me now? I didn't mean to hit you._ His hands dropped away from her.

She looked up anxiously to see him gazing at her with a hardened expression, although his eyes had a strange gravity to them which made her unable to look away again. She licked her lips nervously, wondering what he made of everything he had just seen.

"Tell me, girl. What was it you were worrying about all day?"

She frowned, confused. _He just saw everything in my head. Why's he asking me?_ "Uh, I… was thinking that maybe you… you didn't want me anymore," she said quietly, finally able to look away. "And I wanted to show you I could be good and please you." She was beginning to choke up, the tears running down her cheeks.

"You don't want your reading privileges taken away, is that it?

"No! That's not the reason." _You know it's not._

"Then why?"

"I… want to… to be yours. I don't like it when you're angry with me." She clutched his robes tightly in her fingers, now sobbing as her head fell forward onto his chest. "Please don't be angry with me, she whimpered through her tears. "I'll do anything… just don't send me away." She struggled to get the words out in between deep, shuddering breaths.

Snape was silent for a few moments, his hands still at his sides, offering her no measure of comfort. Oh Gods, he's going to send me away. Slowly he took a step back, untangling her fingers from his clothes and holding her wrists.

"If you truly wish to pl…" Snape trailed off, his left hand tightening around her waist, making her gasp in pain. He let go of her quickly, turning away. "We are being summoned. Put your dress back on. Hurry!"

She gaped up at him as her stomach plummeted. _Oh no, not now. Voldemort will see how angry he is with me. He'll punish me or give me to someone else."_

"Dress on, quick, or you go as you are,"

Snape stepped away from her, giving her a moment to pick her dress up off the floor and pull it on, before turning to face him. He was watching her impatiently, and when he saw she was ready he held out his arm for her to take.

She scurried across to him, grabbing his arm tightly and taking a deep breath, trying to steel her nerves. She was surprised when they didn't immediately disappear and looked up at him questioningly. He put his other hand over hers where she held on to his arm, and she knew he could feel her shaking.

"You are scared?"

"Yes," she nodded. What sort of idiot wouldn't be?

"You are worried I will tell the Dark Lord I no longer want you?" She nodded again. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. "Do you still wish to do anything that I ask?"

"Yes, anything."

"Then prove it. Promise me… Promise to obey me completely, and I will…protect you. You will be mine, and I always take care of what is mine. But you must never hesitate... whatever I ask of you, you must do." The pad of his thumb stroked gently across the edge of her bottom lip, making her shiver pleasantly.

"I will. I promise."

"You must say it." The look on his face was intense as he held her gaze with blazing eyes.

"I… I promise, I will do everything you ask, and I will never disobey you." She felt her whole body tingle as Snape's hand left her chin and ran lightly down her neck as his other arm came around her, pulling her to him.

"Well done, pet." His mouth quirked up in a wry smile that made him look rather smug.

A wave of warmth flowed through her. He'd not called her 'pet' all day, and she was surprised to find that she'd missed it. She smiled tremulously up at him.

"Wipe your face. We must go."

Before the words had even registered she found herself using her short sleeves of her dress to clear up the salty tracks on her cheeks. When she was finished she grabbed the proffered arm firmly, remembering again where they were about to go. Her stomach tightened in fear.

Snape pulled her closer towards him, preparing to leave. In the moment before the apparated they looked into each other's faces, and Hermione saw an icy mask descend over him, even the expression in his eyes fading into cool indifference. Then then was a tug behind her navel and everything disappeared.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: See chapter 1.

  


* * *

Hermione struggled to control her already churning stomach as they appeared at their destination. She bent over, clutching her stomach as she held on tight to Snape's arm.

Once it had settled as much as it was likely to get she finally looked round, realising that once again they were outside the Malfoy's house. Snape pushed her away gently. "Come girl. Walk here." He pointed to a spot a pace or two behind and to one side of him, and began to stride towards the gates. She fell in behind him immediately.

Snape pulled his wand out with a flourish and waved it at the gates before walking straight through them. Hermione barely flinched as she followed him, feeling the cold of the iron pass through her body.

"Don't forget to keep your head down. You will not speak unless I give you permission. Do as you're told and you'll be fine. You are mine and I will allow no harm to come to you. Understand, pet?"

"Yes, Master," she replied, trying to control her anxiety. She wanted to trust him, but she knew that if Voldemort wanted to hurt her, Snape would have no choice but to let it happen.

Some time later Hermione was sitting by her master's feet, her head in his lap as he spoke with Voldemort. She kept her eyes down as instructed, but she could still feel the reptilian eyes of the man opposite watching her carefully, and she was grateful for the warmth beneath her cheek and the soothing way he occasionally stroked her hair as they conversed.

Upon arrival a quivering house elf had left her for about half an hour in the same small room as before. Snape had given it instructions that no one was to be allowed in to see her without him present. Hermione had paced the room nervously as she'd waited, and the moment the door had opened she'd flung herself to the floor, her whole body trembling as she'd seen the bare, pale feet stop before her downturned face.

Voldemort had laughed, apparently delighted at her show of submission. He'd been satisfied with her willingness to please Snape, and his search of her mind had been relatively quick and painless compared to previous times. She didn't think he'd been looking for anything in particular, although he'd flitted through many memories from the previous weeks, lingering on certain moments between herself and Snape.

Now, the two of them were discussing issues concerning those at Hogwarts. Hermione had been shocked to hear a few minutes ago that the older students had been allowed to practise cursing each other, and had been even more surprised to find that Snape had stopped the younger years from having to do the same. Voldemort, it seemed, had reluctantly agreed, in the hopes of preventing more pureblood students disappearing from the school.

Her ears pricked up again at the mention of a few names she recognised. Apparently some of her friends had been causing problems and were now hiding from the Carrows. She kept very still, trying to hide the smirk on her face. _Good for Neville,_ she thought. She'd not realised quite how bad things were at Hogwarts, although it didn't really surprise her. _I wonder how Professor McGonagall is coping. Those Carrows sound awful_. It never occurred to her to blame Snape for any of it.

Suddenly the conversation turned to her again.

"…past few years she has shown herself to be… acceptable at potion-making. Now that I have managed to cure her of her more irritating tendencies she may as well be of some use. As my Lord knows, I am currently researching various new potions, but with all the other demands placed on my time I am not progressing as fast as I wish. Some require constant attendance for long periods of time, which I currently do not have at my disposal. The girl is competent enough to assist me in this."

There was a pregnant pause, in which Hermione held her breath and waited for Voldemort's answer. How she wished she could look up at the both of them to see their expressions, but she didn't dare.

"I think there is more, Severus. Go on."

Out of the corner of her eye she was aware of Snape glancing down at her.

"May I, my Lord?"

Nothing more was said, and after a few moments a buzzing sound filled her ears. She could just about make out the timbre of Snape's voice, but not the words he was saying. _What are they talking about? Am I going to be allowed to help him with his work? He said I was acceptable at potion-making._ She felt a swell of pride as she thought about his rare commendation.

A short while later the buzzing stopped, and she tensed as Voldemort appeared suddenly in front of her. With a flick of his wand he had pulled her up onto her knees, her head pulled back. Snape hadn't moved. Inwardly she was screaming with fear, but she was unable to make a sound.

"So tell me, does the little mudblood wish to help and take care of her master?"

Her mouth gaped, but she remembered she still didn't have permission to speak.

"You may answer the Dark Lord," Snape sad smoothly from behind her.

"Yes… please, sir. If he wishes me to."

"It would, pet."

Voldemort laughed. "And what would you do to help him."

"Anything, anything he wants me to do," she said breathlessly.

"You would of course be needing this back, if you are going to assist him." Voldemort pulled out her wand from a hidden pocket in his robe.

Her eyes widened at the sight, and she licked her lips hungrily. _I'm going to be allowed to do magic again?_

"Severus…?" said Voldemort, still watching her carefully, as if waiting for something. She was released and sagged slightly before Snape grabbed her and turned her round to face him.

"Listen carefully pet. Before you are released from your binding there are a few instructions you will follow. First, you will not perform any magic or use anything in my lab without mine or the Dark Lord's express permission."

"Yes, master," she replied as Snape paused and looked at her expectantly. _I'm going to be allowed to do magic. I would agree to anything…_

"Secondly, you will do everything in your power to complete the tasks you are set, and follow all instructions carefully."

"Yes, Master." _When have you ever known me to do otherwise?_

"You will defend yourself from anyone seeking to harm you, unless either the Dark Lord or I wish you to be punished. You belong to me, and I will be displeased if you allow yourself to become injured in any way. You have already shown yourself capable of defending yourself, but I will be continuing your education in various areas until I am satisfied."

"Yes, Master." She had a sneaky feeling her lessons would include dark magic. Her stomach began to tighten slightly.

"And finally, when the time comes, you will find Potter, keep him alive and unharmed, and then you will… deliver him to the Dark Lord."

Her eyes widened, her mouth falling open in an expression of horror.

"Do you understand?"

She tried to shake her head, but she heard herself say, "Yes, master." Her eyes almost bulged out of her head as her hands flew to her mouth. _Noooooo!_

She screamed in her head, realising suddenly what Snape had done. Her promise to obey… it had been binding. Snape must have done something. Abruptly she remembered the way he had grabbed her face and held it up to his. She'd not been able to see his other hand. _He must have been holding his wand. I felt the promise take hold… how did I not know?I wasn't even the first time… He did it before too… when I promised to please him. Shit, what have I done…? Harry! Oh Gods!_

Hermione began to shake, her mouth opening in an effort to refuse the order, but nothing would come out.

Voldemort chuckled. "I think your little pet has found you out, Severus."

She turned her head towards Snape, her eyes filling with tears as she still fought to speak, but he was unrepentant. Her throat began to close up as she tried to resist the binding oath she had unknowingly made, and she grabbed at her neck as she started choking.

Snape grabbed her, pulling her close so he could whisper in her ear. "You are mine, pet. You made the promise to obey me willingly, when you knew what sort of person I am. You will stop trying to fight this command. Harry Potter must stand before the Dark Lord, you know this, the prophecy must be fulfilled. Stop fighting it, your loyalty belongs to me, not Potter, not anymore."

He gently ran his fingers up and down her throat as he spoke, his voice quiet and soothing, and quickly she felt the contracting muscles in her neck relax, and she took a few shuddering breaths before collapsing against him. He moved away slowly, letting her slide down into an undignified heap on the floor.

She could hear Voldemort speaking, his tone angry, but she paid no attention to his words, still struggling to catch her breath and clear her head. What Snape had said to her made sense, and she was glad he had spoken before she had made herself suffocate. Harry _would_ have to face Voldemort, one way or another. He knew it himself, so what harm would there be in her accompanying him. At least he wouldn't be alone.

She grimaced as a muscle in her throat spasmed. He would be alone though, really. It was as Snape had said, her loyalty was to him now. Would she be able to bear it when Harry realised what she had done? She pulled herself up to a sitting position and cautiously watched the two dark wizards conversing across the room as she rubbed her aching neck.

Despite his striking appearance, it was not Voldemort that held her attention, it was her own wizard that her eyes followed, watching the delicate movements of his hands, the way his full lips formed his words, the graceful way he held himself. She shivered, imagining those hands and lips on her skin. She would bear it, the pain of betraying her friend. She would bear it for him.

A few words drifted across the room and she listened intently.

"…stop her from harming herself needlessly when she can be of so much use."

Voldemort hissed something back, but she couldn't make out what he was saying.

She heard Snape's reply. "I apologise, my Lord, but the girl is already fully aware of the prophecy. She must realise there is no way the boy could defeat you."

Voldemort spoke louder this time. "No, the boy will face me and die."

He laughed, but she thought there was something uneasy about the sound. Hermione watched as his fingers lovingly ran across the wand that he held in the hand nearest her. _But that… that's Dumbledore's wand. Why has he got it?_ She thought furiously for a few minutes, missing the next part of the conversation. _It must be something to do with the way his wand and Harry's are paired. He can't use it against him. But why take Dumbledore's wand in particular?_

The two men moved back to the chairs, Snape settling back into the one near her, pulling her back by the hair to rest against his leg again. She tuned back into their conversation quickly, in case she was asked anything by either of them.

"…pleased with the girl. She has proven to be very… diverting. May I inquire if my Lord has any plans for her after your defeat of Potter and the Order?"

"I am undecided. She may continue to prove herself useful. There will be many mudbloods to round up, and we must find some use for them. Many of those who saw your pet's little display have been complaining. They want to know why you should have all the fun. I am thinking of rewarding them each with one of their own, although I don't expect there to be many who are as… talented as your little pet, Severus. Or so happily accepting of their new position, a testament to your skills, of course."

Hermione frowned. _What does he mean, Snape's skills? What has he been doing_?

"So I am to keep her?"

"Why, are you tired of her already? Maybe you would like a fresh one to break?"

"No, my Lord. I have no wish to repeat the effort with what would be a doubtlessly less intelligent specimen. The girl will do for my purposes. She is clever enough to assist me, and attractive enough for my tastes. I was merely wondering what I will do with her if my Lord allows me to keep her."

"Put her to use any way you wish, Severus. Although I have been thinking on another problem which has begun to make itself apparent in the last few years. The dwindling of the old magical bloodlines is a cause for concern, whereas those with muggle or mixed blood seem to be holding up better. You yourself are a half-blood and you are more powerful than the vast majority of my followers. The power and ability this mudblood seems to hold… any child born of such a union would no doubt be strong indeed."

Hermione stifled a gasp, and she could feel Snape's leg tense against her.

"My Lord… surely you can't mean…"

"It is one of many possibilities I am considering. I would allow all of my followers to breed with the mudbloods I give them. They will of course, continue the pure bloodlines with a spouse from one of the other houses, but I wish to increase the amount of magical blood, and none must be wasted. Many who originally joined me have died in the past 16 years, and more will be lost before I have full control. I must have more to replace them. And who would be more loyal that those brought up to serve me from birth."

Hermione couldn't see his face, but she could imagine the ghastly smile on his face as he uttered those words. She felt horribly sick, and very grateful for the warmth of Snape's leg. She pressed her cheek into it, her head bowed, and tried to take what comfort she could from his presence beside her.

 

* * *

 

"You enjoy pleasing me, don't you, pet?" His voice was muffled.

Hermione blushed. "Yes, sir." Even now, after what she had been ordered to do, it wasn't a lie. _How can I still want him when he's told me I have to take Harry to Voldemort, probably to die._ How could she be so calm and unconcerned about it? On one level she knew she should be angry and upset, yet she seemed strangely detached from her emotions since Snape had ordered her to stop fighting the order.

Snape's question had elicited more response in her than the thought of leading her best friend to his death. Hermione couldn't bring herself to care. She shifted slightly in his lap so as to be able to curl herself closer against him. He had pulled her on top of him as soon as Voldemort had left the room, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling into the hair just behind her ear almost absentmindedly.

He'd been silent until a moment ago, and from the brief look at his face she'd been able to get, she knew that he was troubled about something. He still hadn't looked at her, despite his question, his face now buried into the crook of her neck, the gesture almost childlike in that he seemed to be seeking some sort of comfort from her. Hermione managed to snake one arm under his and around his waist, and the other around his shoulder, pulling him closer. He tensed for a moment before relaxing into her embrace. She waited for him to speak again, but he didn't.

They sat like that for a few minutes in silences, both immersed in their own reflections. Hermione could have almost felt content, if not for the occasional thought that crossed her mind reminding her of the horrible situation she was in. They soon passed, her mind returning to the man whose arms were wrapped around her so tightly, and who she held in return.

The peace was broken all of a sudden when Snape released her with a sigh, pulling her arms from round him and pushing her away from his body. He held her with a firm grip on her upper arm, although for some reason he still would not look at her.

"You are not to mention the task you have been set concerning Potter, unless spoken to about it by either myself or the Dark Lord. You will not dwell on it. I will not have you acting out in defiance because you are unhappy about your orders." He stopped suddenly, turning to face her. He raised a hand and stroked down the side of her face with one finger. "Do not worry. It is not for you to change what must be. Harry Potter will face the Dark Lord, and he must die." Somehow it seemed that he was almost pleading with her, his face earnest and open.

"Do you understand, pet?" he whispered, pulling her towards him again, but not breaking eye contact. There was something in his face that she couldn't read. At first she thought it might be desperation, but she must be wrong. Why would he be so desperate for her to accept that Harry would die? She gave him the answer he was looking for.

"I understand." She spoke solemnly.

He leant forwards and pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. She tried not to sigh as pulled away, but he obviously read the disappointment in her eyes. He chuckled gently, but even in the gloom of the room she could see that his expression did not match the sound. _What's he hiding? What were they talking about that I wasn't allowed to hear? Was it something about me? And why does he look so sad?_

"Later, pet." He cupped her face, and she pressed her cheek into his hand, smiling shyly at him. A strange expression crossed his face, and he jerked his hand away and pushed her to her feet. "It's time to go," he said sharply as he rose from the chair and started towards the door, barely looking to see if she was following him.

Hermione trailed along behind him, head down, barely noticing the gloomy halls and rooms they passed through. She was wondering about the emotion she had seen on his face, a look of longing for something. _Or someone_. Was he thinking of someone else while he held her? A sharp pang pierced her chest. _He loves someone, and maybe he can't be with her for some reason._ Whoever it was, she knew it wasn't her. _He has me._ _I already belong to him._

* * *

Snape sat nursing a large glass of firewhisky as he sat gazing blankly at nothing in particular. He'd sent the girl straight to bed, and was waiting until she was sleeping before retiring himself. He didn't think he would be able to stomach taking advantage of her right now, no matter how much she might seem to want him to. It was all an illusion, just like the tender way she had seemed to hold him earlier.

It was becoming so hard to remember that she was only acting this way in a bid to keep them both alive. For now at least. He'd done the job of manipulating her emotions all too well, and he'd stupidly begun to believe his own deception. He was a foolish old man, wishing for something he could never have.

At least the Dark Lord seemed to be well and truly fooled. There had been a few moments when Snape had thought the game was up, yet he'd managed to keep calm and talk his way out of trouble. The Dark Lord had been suspicious of many of the things he had seen in Snape's memories, but the girl's eager obedience and need to please had wiped away any doubts, judging by his desire to use her as the model for his enslavement of muggleborns. Even her reaction to the order to bring Potter to the Dark Lord had been easily explained away.

Snape though about the instructions he had been forced to give to the girl in exchange for her wand. He could see them causing a few problems in the morning when he gave her back her memories. She would probably be furious with him over the other things that had been spoken of, such as the Dark Lord's plans to breed a new army of followers by mixing pure and muggle blood.

How would she feel at the thought of him being allowed to keep her if the Dark Lord won, and their having children? She would hate it, he knew, although to him the idea strangely did not seem that repulsive, excepting the part where the child would be reared to be loyal to the Dark Lord.

Snape leant his head tiredly against the back of the chair. Tomorrow was going to be one of the more difficult days, he was sure. The potion she had taken would be wearing off sometime in the morning, and without it she would doubtlessly be less easy to manage, and most likely embarrassed at the way she had thrown herself at him. _When will all this end?_

The girl would most likely want him to rescind the instructions he had given her concerning Potter, but he didn't want to, knowing it was a good way to ensure the boy meet his fate, in case Snape himself was in no position to get to the boy. Did he dare defy Dumbledore's instructions and explain why Potter needed to be taken to the Dark Lord? Maybe he should speak to her about it tomorrow. Would she be able to understand? Maybe she was the key for getting the information to Potter. He couldn't see how the boy would accept it otherwise.

Snape had played his part almost too well. Would the boy even believe what he had to say? His hatred for Snape was far too strong, even before he had killed Dumbledore. _No, he'd think it was just a ploy to destroy him_. How would he be able to ensure a meeting with Potter at such a time, in any case. Using the girl as the go between was a far better option. He resolved to speak to her about it at some point, although he would have to do so without that damned portrait listening in.

A while later Snape finally put down his empty glass and headed for his room. Surely the girl would be asleep by then. Entering quietly he breathed a sigh of relief as the lump under with covers didn't move. He padded across to use the bathroom before returning to stand at the side of his bed.

The girl was lying facing his side of the bed, with one arm outstretched slightly so that her hand rested of the edge of his pillow. His stomach clenched at the sight of her beautiful, serene face, her hair spread out like a halo around her. How he wished she was there, in his bed, of her own free choice. But he knew that would never happen.

He lifted the sheets and slipped silently beneath them. He lay facing the girl, and he continued to watch her for a few moments, noting the way the strands of hair that lay across her face move as she breathed. Without thinking, he reached across and brushed them away gently. Her eyes opened sleepily. The girl looked back at him silently as his hand stilled over her cheek. Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips. For a moment he was tempted to kiss her, but he'd spent the whole evening trying to avoid this exact temptation, and with an effort he forced himself to turn away.

"Keep your hair off my pillow, girl. I have no desire to be strangled by it in the night."

He rolled over and closed his eyes, trying to ignore the image of her hurt face that seemed to be branded on his mind. It was a long time before he fell asleep, and when he finally did, he only dreamed of her.

* * *

It was early when Hermione finally gave up on sleep. She had lain awake half the night, catching the off half an hour here and there. She had woken up fully possibly an hour ago, held tight in the arms that had wrapped themselves around her at some point during the night. Snape had pulled her tight against his chest, and hadn't let go since, occasionally clutching her tighter as some dream had caused him to whimper or groan into the hair he had sunk his face into, despite his earlier words. She had been unable to pull away without disturbing him, as any effort to do so had only made him pull her even closer in response.

He seemed to have relaxed somewhat since she had woken, and he hadn't made a sound for some time. She thought she might be able to escape without waking him up. Why she didn't feel like facing him this morning she wasn't sure. She had been desperate for his attention last night, but had been sent to bed with her nightly potion and then left to wait. She had waited for him for some time, but had finally started to doze when he had crept into the room, obviously trying not to wake her. She'd wondered if he'd not wanted her that evening because he'd had someone else on his mind.

She'd lain still, more asleep than awake anyway, as she'd waited for him to come to bed. She'd drifted off for a few moments before feeling the bed dip as he climbed in. Hermione had tried to continue feigning sleep, realising that he didn't want to talk to her, but she'd been unable to stop herself from opening her eyes when she'd felt him brush away the hair tickling her nose.

For a moment she'd thought that she'd got it wrong, that he had meant to wake her, that he was going to kiss her, and her heart had leapt. The harsh words that had followed had cut her far worse than he'd probably meant them to. She had struggled to drop off after that, having been unable to take her mind off Snape and the events of that night.

When she had awoken from a short doze halfway through the night to find Snape had rolled over and thrown his arms around her, she wasn't quite sure how to respond. If it had been a few mere few hours ago she would have pressed herself further into his embrace, but now… Sometime during the night something had changed. She still wanted him, wanted more than anything to please him, but it felt like her mind had been in some sort of fog the last few days, and now it was beginning to clear. She felt confused, particularly in regards of her feelings for Snape, and she would prefer not to have to face him yet, if only she could manage to escape his arms.

She gently pulled away from him, ducking under his arm and laying it carefully across her pillow instead. She moved to sit up, but the moment she'd thought herself free, a hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist. _Damn!_ She sat still, not ready to look at him yet. She was half afraid that he would pull her back into bed, that he would want to fuck her. She was surprised therefore, when he spoke.

"Get dressed and once you are ready come down to my study. The door will be open. There is no need for you to make breakfast today. I will provide it."

Hermione looked at round him, astonished by his words, but he had let go and was already climbing out of the other side of bed. He did not look back at her as he entered his bathroom. She hurried to do as told, squashing down the other half of her that had not been afraid, that had wanted him to pull her back down on the mattress. She needed to sort out her feelings, but for the moment it would seem they would have to wait. _Why does he want to see me in his study? What did I do wrong?_


	31. Chapter 31

Dislcaimer: See Chapter 1

Just to be clear, this chapter jumps back between the present and a memory she's viewed in the pensieve.

Please let me know what you think, or even if you're getting confused.  


* * *

The cell she had been held in at Malfoy Manor started to fade. _What did I mean by what Dumbledore asked him to do? I seemed pretty horrified about something. And the sword… the Sword of Gryffindor? Why would Snape give us that? Well at least I know why I can't remember anything from the last 9 months. And Snape seems to have kept his word. It doesn't look like Voldemort knows what we have been up to._ The memories of her time spent searching for Horcruxes with the boys had been the first thing she had been shown, and she had understood immediately how important it had been to keep the information from Voldemort.

_But why would Snape risk himself like this. He's not on our side. Why would he do such a thing?_ The brief explanation he had given her in his office had told her very little of what she was about to see. He'd only told her how to use the pensieve and that he wouldn't discuss what he was showing her until she had viewed everything. He had barely been able to look at her as he had spoken. She had no time to wonder what was wrong with him as the mist had begun to resolve into the next memory.

* * *

Hermione had been in this particular memory for some time, and was starting to feel quite tired, but what she was currently seeing was particularly engrossing. She couldn't take her eyes off the two figures sat before her.

The Hermione of the memory was perched on the edge of an enlarged version of one of his armchairs, her body twisted towards Snape. Snape seemed to be pressing himself into the arm of the chair, as far away from her as he could manage, clearly uncomfortable. She placed one of her hands over his right one that lay twitching in his lap and curled her fingers around his so her fingertips were rubbing against his palm. His left arm was bent and his hand hovered in front of his mouth, as if to hide its expression from her. He looked almost scared of what she might say next.

"Please, Professor," she tried again, her voice faltering. "I don't want…

Hermione suddenly felt herself being pulled backwards out of the memory and she found herself back in Snape's study.

"No! I was just about to ask you something important. Why did you end the memory just then? What did I ask you?"

As she spoke, a wave of exhaustion ran through her. Looking up at the grandfather clock as she struggled to stay upright, she realised she had been in the pensieve for almost two hours.

A pair of arms suddenly surrounded her, and Hermione began to push them away before she realised she was halfway to the floor as her legs had given out on her. She was smoothly lowered to the floor where she sat in a crumpled heap. Hermione looked up gratefully into jet black eyes that were regarding her guardedly. As soon as she was safe on the floor he pulled his arms back and knelt down near her, pulling chocolate out of his pocket and giving it to her. She felt a momentary pang of disappointment at the loss of his warmth. As she took the chocolate Snape stood back up and walked away, going back to the desk where the rest of the memories were lined up.

"Are you ready to continue? The next one to show you is from the night that you were made to perform the Cruciatus on Lucius. Or do you need a longer break?

"No! she said firmly. I wish to see something else first."

He eyed her warily. "And what is that?"

"The rest of the memory you just pulled me out of," she said icily. "Why did you not let me see the request I made of you?"

"That was the end of that memory," he said stonily. He shifted imperceptibly, but enough for her to know he was hiding something, despite his inscrutable expression.

"I want to know what I asked of you. It was important enough for me to ask at such a time, and I can clearly see it was difficult for me to ask. I think it is unlikely that I would not have saved this memory, and I can see you still remember it, so either give me my memory, or show me yours." She glared at him fiercely but he still tried to deny her.

"Miss Granger, the memory is irrelevant to our situation. There are many more important things that you must see that need discussing."

"I do not agree. I saw you promise me you would show me all my memories that you obliterated. If my question was important enough to ask, it is important for me to see again. You will show me what I asked you, and your reply.

His cheeks flushed, and she was surprised to see how easily she could read his discomfort. What could I possibly have asked to provoke such a reaction?

"I... I don't…" he tried to speak with his usual firmness, but failed miserably.

She knew she had him on the back foot, and pressed her advantage. "Professor I insist on knowing what happened." She refrained from putting her hands on her hips to avoid sounding like a petulant child, but the look she gave him seemed to convince him that she would not let it go. Snape pulled a small vial from a pocket deep inside his black robes, and looked at it hesitantly as Hermione waited. Sensing her impatience he finally uncapped the bottle and poured it smoothly in.

"Miss Granger," he said, stopping her with his hand as she went to enter the pensieve again. "Please remember that this was what you requested of me. I… ah…" he hung his head. "I wish it had not been necessary." She looked up into his dark eyes, seeing remorse and uneasiness. What happened? What could be possibly be worse than what I've seen and been through already?

Nodding at him slowly to show she understood, she turned back to the pensieve and fell into her memory.

* * *

Some time later she emerged, wide-eyed and blushing as her eyes fell on Snape, who was sitting behind his desk once more, going through some papers. He was unable or unwilling to look up at her. She sank down onto one of the stone steps to think.

"I trust you are satisfied with what you saw. There will not be any discussion of what you just saw, not now, or later. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand." She wasn't sure she'd be capable of discussing what she'd just seen with him in any case, so his unwillingness to do so caused her no disappointment. She felt slightly shell-shocked by what she'd just seen. _Snape did that… for me._ She looked across the room at him slyly. He was still pointedly ignoring her, and she could well understand why he had been so unwilling to show her that particular memory.

The things she had seen over the last few hours painted him in a very different light. She was even more confused than before. If he'd only been protecting her, then why had he forced her into two binding oaths that basically meant that she couldn't refuse to do anything he wanted? His behaviour over the past few weeks also now seemed suspect now that she understood some of the reasons why she was there. His treatment of her had been rather inconstant. At the time she had assumed it was just because he was a nasty bastard who was enjoying his power over her. Now she was not sure what prompted him to be kind and almost caring one minute, and cold and harsh the next. What she had just seen made her believe the nastiness was all just an act, and if she was right, how did it affect the way she felt about everything she had seen? How did it affect the way she felt about him.

"Do you wish to continue, or do you need a few moments?"

Hermione looked up at the clock. It was still only 10am, since she had woken up so early that morning. "I'd like to eat something and rest for a little bit." She'd been unable to eat more than a few mouthfuls earlier and was starting to feel quite hungry now.

Snape snapped his fingers, calling back the house-elf that had delivered her food earlier. "Tiggy, Miss Granger requires something more substantial to eat." He looked over at her. "Do you wish for anything in particular?" She shook her head and he looked back at the elf. "Bring whatever you can find," he said.

"Tiggy will serve tasty breakfast to Sir and Missy," said the elf, before disappearing.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Snape quickly buried himself in the paperwork on his desk. _You can't keep ignoring me. You'll have to talk to me at some point_ , she thought, looking away from him.

Snape's irritated grunt made her start, and when she got to her feet to see what was making him glare at the desk she had to smother a laugh. Obviously the house-elf had decided Snape needed feeding too, for the parchment he had been writing on were all stacked neatly to one side, and the quill he will still holding was lodged in the top of a pile of steaming muffins. He muttered a curse under his breath, yanking the quill out before setting it down on top of the pile.

He finally looked and at her and she couldn't help but giggle at the offended look on his face. For a moment Snape looked astonished, before a corner of his mouth also twitched slightly. He waved to the plate on the opposite side of the desk from him. "Help yourself." It too was piled high with muffins, as well as rashers of bacon and small pots of various condiments.

Hermione quickly transfigured a chair from a small wooden table that stood empty at one side of the room, and pulled it up to the desk. Somehow the mood in the room had lightened.

"It seems Tiggy has decided that I need feeding up."

"Perhaps she thinks that I haven't been feeding you well enough." Hermione spoke airily, but a dark cloud crossed his face at the thought.

He made an effort to speak normally. "Actually I find your cooking much more palatable than what the house-elves make. I find their food rather too rich for my taste."

"Too many sweet things," Hermione agreed. "We never had much sugary food at home, as my parents are both dentists." She felt a momentary pang of loss, but Snape was already nodding in understanding.

"Yes, I remember."

When she looked at him, confused as to how he knew that he spoke again.

"When the three of you disappeared I realised there was a good chance the Dark Lord would go looking for your parents. Potter's Aunt and Uncle had been taken care of, but it was rather a stupid oversight by the Order to forget your family. As if the three of you wouldn't have done something just as stupid if something had happened to them instead of Potter's own family." He paused for a moment to look at her, but she just waited quietly for him to continue, hearing only the truth in his words.

"I looked up their details and went looking for them, intending to move them somewhere safe, but I found them long gone and with no trace of where they might have gone. I guessed that was your doing."

Hermione nodded sadly, thinking of that horrible day when she had been forced to obliviate them and send them away. At least if Snape hadn't been able to find them she could assume they were both still safe.

Snape continued, more quietly now. "I believe I gave Minerva quite a scare. She entered the staffroom just as I was coming out of the records room. She was horribly curious as to why I had been in there when I had never felt the need previously, but she didn't dare press me about it. She probably assumed I'd been searching for records pertaining to muggleborns, to hand over to the Dark Lord." His face tightened and he suddenly went silent.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, laying down the half eaten muffin.

"It is of no matter," he said gruffly.

"I can see it's not just nothing," she replied, casting her mind back over what he had just said. _Minerva…Oh!_ She realised suddenly the position he'd been put in, apparently supporting one side, but unable to rely on or trust anyone, and hated by the side he was truly working for. Forced to work with those who he probably once considered friends, friends who now despised him, for killing Dumbledore and turning traitor.

She looked up quickly towards the portrait that hung over Snape's shoulder, as she remembered something. "Twice in the memories I just saw, Dumbledore was mentioned. I was quite upset by what you showed me. Will I see that again?"

Snape had tensed up. "It was only necessary to show you those memories at that particular time because there was no other way for you to trust me. Now, there are enough of your own to prove that I am only trying to help. You will not be seeing them again. They are… private."

"Can you at least tell me why I was so annoyed with Professor Dumbledore? I was quite angry with him at one point."

"If you don't tell her, my boy, I will," said a voice from behind Snape.

By the time Hermione looked up at the painting it was already sleeping again, or at least pretending to. She looked back at Snape, who was scowling.

"What that interfering old windbag wishes you to know, is that he ordered me to do it. He decided it was necessary to ensure my place by Voldemort's side, free from suspicion in order to learn what I could, and help as much as possible."

"And what Severus will omit telling you, is that I was dying from the curse that had caused my right arm to wither, and that he was doing me the favour of a quick death. Then there was also the matter of Draco, who had been ordered to kill me or die himself, and whose soul I did not wish torn apart by murder."

There was silence for a few moments before Hermione spoke. "And what of Professor Snape's soul? Did you not care about that?" She spoke quietly, but inside she was livid over what she suddenly realised he had been forced into.

"Only Severus can know how it affected him, but I did not believe it would do him any harm. It was not murder."

Hermione had stopped listening, her attention riveted by the man opposite her. His face had drained of all expression as the painting had spoken, but she could tell he was working hard to supress his feelings. A wave of compassion flowed through her, and she reached across the table to grab his hand. He tensed, but surprisingly did not pull away. Perhaps he needed someone to show him a little kindness for once. She was still unsure of how she felt about him, but she knew she was at least capable of doing that for him.

She spoke softly, squeezing his hand gently. "If they knew, they would think the same of you that I do." Snape grunted noncommittally, but his hand had tightened on hers for a moment. "I don't know anyone else who would be brave enough to face him, for so many years, and deceiving him the way you have. There is no way to describe what you've done for us all, but I know you've saved a lot of lives, including my own, more than once."

Snape looked uncomfortable at her words, once again unable to meet her gaze. "I can't agree with you," was all he could manage after a few moments. "I can think of another person brave enough to do what I am doing."

It took her a few moments to realise that he meant her, and she smiled at him. "It's not the same," she said simply. "No, it's not," she repeated as she saw him open his mouth to object. "Most of the time I know nothing of the deception I am part of, and you must lie for the both of us. Besides, you have been doing this alone for many years, whereas I have always had you there to protect me."

Snape looked faintly pleased by her words.

"I just wish I'd never put you in this position in the first place. If only I'd not been stupid enough to get caught, you wouldn't have to risk yourself even further by looking out for me." She pulled her hands back, covering her eyes in sudden embarrassment. "I can't believe that's how I managed to get captured after everything we went through. Falling over a tree root and knocking myself out. Oh Gods!"

"At least it was useful when it came to concocting a story to explain your memory loss." When she peered through her fingers at him questioningly he continued. "I persuaded the Dark Lord that your condition was due to you trying to perform an obliviate while running from the snatchers and that the resulting concussion from you being knocked unconscious at the same time was the likely cause.

Snape gave her no chance to reply to this, standing suddenly and walking around the desk. "Shall we continue?" He looked down at her, holding out his hand. With only a seconds hesitation she put her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet. She was standing so close to him, and she couldn't help but lay her hands on his chest as she looked up into his eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered. His only response was a slight smile as he stared back down at her. He leaned towards her slightly and she almost thought he would kiss her, before, with an effort he pulled away, turning and grabbing the next bottle.

"As I said before, this next one begins the night after we came back from the Manor the night that Lucius and the other were punished. Are you ready?"

* * *

 

The next memory swirled around her and resolved. Hermione found herself standing in the hall as the door to Snape's bedroom opened and Snape stepped out. From where she was standing she could just make out the lump in his bed that was her past self, lit by the thing strip of light from the hall. She thought back to the night that she'd crucio'd Malfoy. It felt like such a long time ago. That had been the night Bellatrix had carved up her arm. She scratched the fading scars unconsciously.

What else had happened…? _Oh…_ She remembered why she was in his bed. He'd raped her that night, threatened her with the Imperio if she didn't do as told and lie still for him. The memory brought with it a strange mixture of feeling, anger, hurt, and something else. She struggled to merge the memory of the cruel, evil man he had seemed that night with the one she had just been talking to, and feeling compassion for. She couldn't understand how it could be the same person.

Hermione realised that Snape had moved down the hall towards his study, and she quickly followed him. If I'm asleep, these must be Snape's memories. Curious as to why he was showing her this, she walked through into the room behind him and down the stairs to the main floor. He went across to a cupboard and began to pull out phials, which she recognised as her own memories.

A voice from the wall startled her, so intent was she on watching his face as he performed his task.

"How is she, Severus?"

"As well as can be expected. It was a difficult evening. The Dark Lord was somewhat impressed with her, and now wishes for me to find a way to convince her to support him."

He sounded angry and bitter, and as she moved up beside him Hermione saw his face with contorted with barely restrained fury. She looked down to where he was still fussing with the phials. His hand were shaking. _Why is he so angry? I don't understand._

"She is lucky, to have you looking out for her."

If Hermione hadn't been standing so close she wouldn't have noticed the way his hands clenched tightly as Dumbledore spoke, or the way his face drained of the little colour he had, except for two spot of red high on his cheeks.

"I doubt that she would agree with you right now," he snapped back at the painting, and Hermione realised suddenly that the anger he was trying so hard to surpass was all aimed at himself, at the horrible situation he had been put in. How she longer in that moment to be able to reach out to him, to tell him that she understood what he had had to do.

Snape looked over his preparations one last time, snatching his hand away and tucking it into a pocket when he realised it was shaking. "It is time," he said, and stalked out the room again.

Hermione trailed sadly along behind him, her mind working fast. The more memories she saw, the more she was finding it hard to view Snape as the hard-hearted, nasty man he had always seemed to be. The situation was causing him as much pain as it was her, probably more, as he obviously did not enjoy treating he the way he had to in order to maintain the illusion for Voldemort. So many of the things he had done in recent weeks were beginning to make more sense, now she was able to see them from a different point of view.

She turned her attention back to Snape, who had re-entered the bedroom and was now bending over her as she slept, and as she watched he shook her awake. As soon as she saw him she tried to get herself as far away as possible by pressing herself into the corner. Hermione could barely remember the time when she would have felt quite so afraid of him. Even without understanding what was really happening she had recently found a measure of comfort when he was close. She felt safe with him.

Snape was speaking. "I am not going to touch you Miss Granger. Please put this on and follow me. There are things you must see."

Hermione saw the surprise on her own face as he used her name. Even now, when he called her that instead of girl or pet, it sounded slightly odd to her ears. Snape handed her past self a robe which she put on once his back was turned, and soon Hermione was following herself back down the hall to the study.

Snape gave a quick explanation that was fairly similar to the one she had been given only a few hours ago, and she was sure that her face at the time had held a similar look of disbelief as the one she could see on her past self now. She was eventually persuaded to view the pensieve, and was soon lowering her face to the shimmering liquid.

As soon as she was immersed in the memory, Snape sat at his desk and pulled some papers in front of him, but Hermione saw he was having difficulty concentrating, and he kept stealing quick glances at the pensieve. It was not long before he gave up on his work and slumped over the desk, head in hands and an expression of self-loathing evident on his face.

The scene faded slightly for a moment, and Hermione realised she had jumped forward by about an hour when she glanced at the clock. She watched herself emerge from the pensieve, Snape as yet unaware of her. She looked terribly sad, and her eyes went straight to the figure behind the desk, concern showing in her eyes. She walked across to him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He jumped slightly, looking up at her with a guarded expression that seemed to relax as he saw her. _He wasn't sure what to expect from my reaction. Did he really think I could be angry with him?_

"Professor…" she whispered, and began to cry. To Hermione's surprise Snape stood, wrapping his arms around the sobbing girl and pulling her to him so her face was buried in his chest, her sobs muffled.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, rocking her gently. Hermione was astonished at the tenderness he was showing towards her, and at a time when he was obviously so much in need of some himself. There seemed to be no end of surprises when it came to this man.

* * *

Hermione emerged from Snape's memory a while later, and chose to sit on the chair she had transfigured earlier while she processed what she had just seen. She saw Snape get up and come towards her, concern etched on his face, but she waved him away. "I'm ok. I just need a minute or two to think. It's a lot to take in all at once." Snape backed off, leaving her in peace. She closed her eyes while she thought back to the memory she'd just seen.

* * *

 

Her cries had died out after a while, but she had refused to pull her face out of Snape's coat, and her knuckles were white from clutching at the fabric of his robes. Eventually Snape had swung her into his arms and carried her from the study into his library, where he'd lowered himself into his armchair as she'd continued to cling to him. He'd lit the fire with a wandless spell and called for Tiggy, who he'd told to bring tea and an assortment of food and to come back with it for further instructions.

When Tiggy had reappeared only a few moments later he'd asked her to pour a cup of tea and hand it to him, and then told the little elf quietly to change the sheets on his bed. It had taken some coaxing, but eventually Hermione had been brave enough to lift her face from his chest and accept the tea, although she had been unwilling to move from his lap, and he hadn't asked her to, despite the fact he was obviously growing uncomfortable with the prolonged contact and unused to showing such gentleness towards another.

He'd waved a plate of biscuits across to her with his wand and she'd accepted one, now feeling brave enough to sit up and look him in the eyes, tentatively smiling when he'd asked how she was feeling and whether she was warm enough.

After a while Snape had persuaded her to sit in his chair while he went for a salve for her arm, and he'd returned quickly and knelt in front of her as he applied it. She'd not taken her eyes off his face the whole time, barely blinking the whole time. Eventually they had both worked up the courage to talk to each other, mainly about the successful meeting with Voldemort earlier that evening, although they had steered clear of mentioning what Snape had done to her when they'd arrived back at the castle. It had needed no discussion.

Before long, she'd started yawning, and Snape had insisted she return to bed and get some rest, as she was sure to wear herself out with her work the next day. Hermione had looked panicked for a second, and had thrown her arms around his neck. In the end, Snape had been forced to agree to accompany her back to bed, but she could tell the request made him feel awkward, considering how he had agonised over the way he had forced himself on her not that long ago. He'd still done it though, for her, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her close as she fell asleep.

* * *

 

Hermione opened her eyes, and glanced round the room. Snape must have summoned Tiggy while she'd been viewing that memory, as the desk was now clear of food, although there was a cup of steaming tea sitting beside her, as well as one besides Snape, who had abandoned his writing and was now sitting behind a rather large tome, reading intently. He didn't look up as Hermione grabbed the cup and began to sip it slowly.

She pondered his strange behaviour, as well as her own that evening in the memory. It felt such a long time ago that she had been so unwilling for Snape to touch her, and she could barely remember the hate and disgust that she'd felt that night as he had forced himself on her. She could well understand her own past reaction in clinging to Snape in such a way once she'd found out the truth, but she was still having problems resolving her own feelings about Snape, the gentle way he had treated her that evening only confusing her further. She felt like she didn't know him.

* * *

 

The next morning when they'd awoken in the memory, Hermione had found herself still in his arms, her back pressed up against his chest, legs entangled. Snape had been embarrassed to find his hand on her breast, and in turn she'd been unable to look him in the eye, aware that as she had drifted towards consciousness she had been pushing herself into his hand, unsure whether the moans of pleasure had been only in her dreams or whether she'd uttered them out loud.

Breakfast had been awkward, and Snape had been all too eager to leave her in the library with the knowledge that she could use any of the books that she wished, but if they were likely to be warded, then she should fetch him before opening them.

The from then on had appeared to her in sections, the memories often dimming for a moment and she would realise from the clock that maybe 10 minutes or sometimes an hour had gone by. I guess I only kept the useful bit, or this would take ages to watch. She hovered over herself as her past self worked through different books, occasionally calling for Snape to help her with one she assumed to be warded.

She'd been amused to see herself pouring over Hogwarts: A History again _. I'm sure I could recite most of it off by heart._ There had also been a number of other history books spread around, and Hermione realised that her past self had been looking not only for famous battles in the search for who might currently hold the Elder wand, but also for some idea about objects that may have been important enough for Voldemort to use as a horcrux.

Snape kept out of the library for much of the day, leaving her to her research, but returned for lunch which was provided by Tiggy once again. Conversation had been stilted, until Hermione had asked where Snape had been the previous morning. He had described how Harry and Ron had been brought to the manor and eventually escaped with the captives from the cells. He had arrived after the event, but the Dark Lord had still been in fury, lashing out at everyone within reach, and he'd been unable to leave for some time.

The conversation had died out soon after that, and Snape had retreated back to his study, telling her that he would be leaving his chambers for some time that afternoon, but would be back before supper. Hermione had looked worries at this, but Snape had reassured her that no one would be able to enter his chambers, let alone his study without his permission, and he would be immediately aware if anyone even tried.

He had then left, and Hermione had returned to her research. She had obviously not found anything important that afternoon, as soon the memory had dimmed, and suddenly it was about 4 hours later and Snape was returning. There were a stack of notes that she had written during the course of the day that Hermione knew she would have access to so at least she wasn't going over the same information needlessly.

Snape had given her a copy of Beedle the Bard, which she'd tucked away for later reading, before returning to her work. After dinner, however, she had curled up with a couple of books in the armchair opposite Snape, who had also been reading. Hermione had been rather amused to note the way both of them were surreptitiously watching each other, stealing occasional glances or staring covertly until they were caught. Then she would smile shyly at him and his face would soften slightly, before they would turn their attention back to their books.

Eventually, however, it got late, and Snape had reluctantly put his book away and told her it was time. He had led her into the bedroom and disappeared into his lab for a few minutes while she had got herself ready for bed and climbed under the sheets. Snape had re-entered the room, sitting down on the bed next to her and placing the two phials full of potions, as well as one empty one on the bedside table. He had taken a few minutes to explain what she needed to do, and how he would remove her memories.

He had then reached across for the first potion, the one that was his own version of a calming draught that she still took nightly, and she had knocked it back quickly. As he had reached across for the sleeping draught she had thrown her arms around him once again, and after a moment's pause, he had pulled the sheets up around her naked body before pulling her closer and whispering quietly into her ear. Hermione had only been able to make out part of what he had said, but she had heard promises to take care of her as well as possible and more apologies for the behaviour that was forced upon him by the circumstances.

After a while she had been able to pull away from him and look up into his eyes, obviously trying hard to keep a brave face on. He had given her the sleeping draught, and then encouraged her to lay back on the pillows while they waited for it to begin to take hold. She had grabbed his hand and whispered her forgiveness. Then he'd taken his wand and held it to her head, and begun to remove her memories. The room had begun to grown dark as the draught took hold. The last thing Hermione had seen clearly was Snape gently pressing his lips to her forehead before he whispered, _"Obliviate._

* * *

 

The half-drunk cup of tea in Hermione's hand had now gone cold, and she placed it back onto the desk, looking over at Snape, who was still reading his book. His long hair was falling forward into his eyes, and as she watched he carelessly brushed it aside. Hermione smiled as it only fell back into the same position. She sighed quietly. _I wish I understood how I feel. Is this real? And how does he feel about me?_


	32. Chapter 32

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

He could feel the girl's eyes on him again, and he tried not to shift uncomfortably under her scrutiny. She was quiet this time, even more so since she'd insisted on viewing that particular memory he hadn't wanted to show her. Besides the conversation over their second breakfast, she'd barely spoken, and it worried him. _What is she thinking? I knew I shouldn't have shown her that dratted memory. What must she think of me now?_

Over the past few weeks when being shown her memories, the girl had alternated between angry and accepting, often showing a great deal of compassion toward himself, despite the fact he didn't deserve it. But she'd never been quiet and thoughtful like this before, and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with it. He would have preferred her screaming and shouting rather than this watchful quietness. It was making him nervous.

Snape swiped at the hair falling over his eyes automatically as he tried to read. It only fell back again. He realised he'd been going over the same phrase for 5 minutes. He snapped the book shut in irritation, making the girl jump. He stood and walked round the desk, picking his wand up to remove the last memory from the pensieve and place in back in its bottle.

He reached out and picked up the phial marked 4th April, rolling it between his fingers for a moment as he thought. He'd done this enough times now that he didn't need to check the diary that he kept locked and warded in his desk to remind himself exactly what she was about to view, and what had happened in the days leading up to this particular memory. The girl usually asked him about the latter, as she usually wanted to know where the memories fit in to the past few weeks.

Snape still felt keenly the shame and disgust at himself over what he had done to her after she had taken care of him, the afternoon he turned up injured and feverish. It had been Bella and Lucius who had put him in such a condition as revenge for the way the girl had injured the latter so badly with the Cruciatus curse. They knew better than to try and target the girl again without permission from the Dark Lord, but had had no compunction over injuring Snape. They had also been angry that he had managed to rescue her in time, stealing her away before Lucius could have his way with her, and Bellatrix more fun with her knife. They'd managed to surprise him with a few well places dark hexes when he'd turned up at Malfoy Manor that day to find the Dark Lord absent.

He'd been lucky to have the girl there to help him when he'd arrived back. The injuries themselves had not been particularly bad, not when compared to those he'd had to deal with alone in the past, but the fever brought on by the dark magic lodged in this flesh could have much more serious. Thank the gods the girl had been able to reduce his fever enough for him to be capable of banishing the dark magic from his body.

He'd been surprised to wake up in her arms, and it had been a few minutes before he'd even realised where he was, the shock of seeing her touching his face so tenderly and the feeling of her warm body against his, had distracted him from the cold water and the pain in his side. The memory of the way her fingers had stroked his lips made him ache slightly behind his ribs.

She would never touched him that way again, and he knew that she would never have wanted to do so if not for this whole damn situation. If she came through this alive he knew it would probably take some time for her to recover. If he survived too, he was sure she would never want to see him again. And the thought of that made something inside him clench painfully. How had the girl managed to worm her way into his life so easily? He'd been alone for so long, and he'd felt no need to change that for many years now. _And it won't be changing anytime soon._

He looked over at the girl, who was now watching him expectantly.

"Are you ready for the next one?"

She stood at his words. "I think so." She watched as he used his wand to pull the shimmering threads from the phial in his hand and deposit them in the pensieve. She moved to stand over it before looking up at him. "When did this happen?"

Snape couldn't quite look at her as her replied. "The night after… after I gave you the hairbrush. I brought you back from the meeting with the Dark Lord and put you to bed for about an hour before waking you again. You were rather… distressed and angry afterwards." He looked down at the floor. "Understandably so."

"What do you mean?"

"I behaved… badly the night before, and I also made some comments that evening at the Manor which were cruel. You had every right to be upset." The girl was quiet for a few moments and Snape turned his head so he could see her out of the corner of his eye. She looked thoughtful.

"I can't tell you that I understand why you… why you did what you did that night, but I'm sure you wouldn't do anything that wasn't necessary. And I know why you had to say those things to Vol… to the Dark Lord. I can see that you have to do everything possible to stop him from suspecting us." She turned away from him before continuing, her voice quiet and tight. "You mustn't act like you care…"

He turned and laid a hand on her shoulder. "That's all it is though. An act. I hope you know that."

After a moment's pause she laid a hand over his, and bent her neck to rest her cheek on top. "I know now. And I will again." She lifted her head and wrapped her fingers around his before turning and stepping towards him. "You kept the promise you made me, back in the cell the night I was captured.

She moved closer, and his breath caught as her hands slid up his chest. _It's the potion, it just hasn't worn off yet,_ he told himself as she pressed herself up against him. He couldn't seem to look away from her, although he knew he should stop her before she took it any further.

"Thank you for keeping me safe," she whispered, as her arms wrapped around his neck and tugged him down to meet her mouth.

As soon as his lips touched her waiting ones Snape realised he had made a mistake. He was taking advantage of her state for his own pleasure, and it was wrong of him to do so. The girl was emotionally fragile and he couldn't afford to mess things up at this point. Too much rested on his ability to keep calm and emotionally detached, and the girl threatened that enough without him getting further involved with her. _It's not like she knows what she's doing anyway._

He pulled away quickly, stepping out of the circle of her arms, but not before he'd been able to taste the sweetness of her mouth, and he was hard pressed not to hold her tight against him and sample it again.

The girl's eyes remained closed for a moment before they fluttered open, darkening slightly when she realised he had moved away from her _. It's not her… it's the potion._ Snape hardened his heart against the look on her face as she realised he had rejected her. She turned away from him, obviously trying hard not to cry _. It's better this way,_ he thought, wishing she could understand. _It's time to give up this foolish obsession with the girl. Nothing good will come of this if you continue._

He searched from something to say to break the awkward silence. _What were we just doing… The memory, we were discussing the memory._ He began to speak.

"As I was explaining, this mem…"

"Why…?"

Snape paused, unsure as to what she meant exactly.

"Why... why did you stop? Don't you want to kiss me?" He could barely hear her. "There's… there's someone else, isn't there?"

 _Lily…_ But truth be told, he'd barely thought of her in days.

"Miss Granger, I… It just isn't appropriate for…"

"Appropriate?" She laughed hollowly as she turned to face him, her eyes red although she had managed to wipe any traces of tears from her face. "We were well past appropriate the moment you fucked me, Professor." She advance on him furiously, and jabbed him in the chest. "So how is a simple kiss now not acceptable?"

He retreated from her with a step back. "The circumstances are different. You are not obliged to… to please me."

She moved towards him again, indignation clear on her face. "Is that all it is? Pleasing you? What about… I mean, I had started to think that you, that…."

Snape stepped forward suddenly, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Miss Granger, you are still under the influence of a love potion, you would not be acting like this otherwise."

She looked incredulous for a moment. "I… What do you mean, a love potion? Why would you…?"

"You decided it was necessary at the time. I administered it to you the last time you had your memories."

"You mean… the way I feel, it's all just the potion?" Her voice was quieter now.

Snape nodded.

Hermione was silence for a moment before speaking again. "But I thought… Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"It should be wearing off at some point in the next few hours, depending on your metabolism. I thought it best to let you view the memory for yourself first, so you could understand the circumstances leading up to it. I did not imagine that you would become distressed like this."

"Distress…?" She seemed to deflate, hanging her head and sighing quietly. After a moment she spoke. "I think it's time to continue with the next memory."

 _Thank the Gods._ At least she didn't seem to realise he'd not answered her original questions. He wasn't sure he could have given her an answer to either one. He turned back to the desk, looking at the waiting pensieve. He knew what she was about to see in the next memory.

* * *

 

She'd been so angry at first, and when he'd finally gone looking for her, finally finding her hunched up in the kitchen, he'd been expecting to find her ready for a fight. But once more she'd been calm and accepting. As always he'd been at a loss to understand how she could forgive him so easily, and in awe of the maturity and courage she continued to show in such an abhorrent situation.

He'd taken her through to the library, where there was food waiting for them, and attempted to explain to her his actions over the previous few days. She'd brushed his many apologies aside, although she had listened carefully to his reasoning, particularly when he'd explained why he had forced himself on her the night he'd been injured.

She had accepted everything he had said, all his sorry excuses. He wondered if she had been able to perceive that he had held one reason back from her… he had wanted her that night. Oh he was sure it had been the right thing to do, taking advantage of her after she'd looked after him, otherwise the Dark Lord would have been suspicious of their feelings, after the tender way she had cared for him. He viewed any emotions that he didn't understand with distrust.

Later, sitting in front of the fire he had told her all the news he had about her friends and the order. He had various sources of information which the Dark Lord was not privy to, and the girl had been surprised at how much he knew. She had then inquired about her friends still at Hogwarts, but he had managed to defer that conversation until the next day, realising suddenly how tired the girl was.

With the help of Tiggy, her bedroom had been quickly transfigured back into its original state, a large airy room with 2 windows at one end, which the girl had peered out of with delight, although she hadn't been able to see much in the dark. He'd left her eyeing up the large, comfortable bed that had replaced the tiny and hard one she'd been sleeping in, telling her to come to the library in the morning when she woke.

The girl had spent the following day and a half barely leaving the library, only stopping her research to eat when Tiggy had insisted she do so. She had, however, given it a break on the Saturday evening to do some 'light reading' as she called it, pouring over some of his more obscure and rare tomes on a variety of subjects. He'd sat opposite her in his armchair and grumbled about the constant stream of questions that interrupted his own reading. In truth though, he'd rather enjoyed the evening in her company, the questions she'd asked had been challenging and had only shown her depth of understanding.

The next day had followed much the same pattern. He had left her to her own devices again, not wanting to glimpse what she was doing in case he saw something that he wasn't supposed to know. When he'd come in at lunchtime he'd found her reading the book he had found for her, The Tales of Beedle the Bard. She'd been deep in concentration, as if trying to prise secrets hidden within, and had not noticed him come in. When he had finally caught her notice she'd blushed slightly, and tucked the book behind several others, as if caught doing something she shouldn't have been.

He'd explained that she needed to be obliviated once again that evening. They couldn't afford for her to have her memories for too many days at a time, or she, and therefore the Dark Lord would start to question why. She'd been quiet for the remainder of the afternoon, obviously apprehensive and anxious about what was coming, although she'd begun to perk up again as he'd made an effort to keep her occupied.

That evening, he'd sat next to her in her hard, narrow bed, reassuring her of his continuing intentions to keep her safe, as he prepared to extract her memories once again. He'd been surprised when she sat up and kissed him lightly on the cheek, whispering her thanks. He had smiled down at her without thinking, and she had softly laughed at the expression on his face, touching the corner of his mouth tenderly.

Snape lifted his hand, his fingers brushing over his lips where hers had rested that evening.

* * *

 

"Professor?"

With a start he realised he'd frozen, staring at the waiting pensieve, while the girl had been standing there, waiting for him to proceed.

"It's ready, Miss Granger. You may continue."

The girl moved over to stand in front of the wide bowl, peering into it for a moment before she bent her face slowly towards the shiny surface of the pensieve. At the last moment she paused, turning her face slightly towards him.

"Just so you know, I didn't realise what it was until a few minutes ago, but the love potion wore off a few hours ago. I could feel the difference earlier."

Before he had a chance to respond she dipped her head into the pensieve and was gone.


	33. Chapter 33

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

I'd love to know what you think so far.

* * *

The Headmaster's study reappeared around Hermione as the memory ended, although it took her a moment to shake the last image she'd seen in the pensieve. Unconsciously she touched her lips the way she had just seen herself touch Snape's as she smiled to herself. _I don't understand what's happening. He blows hot and cold so quickly. Does he even like me, or is this all just about keeping us both alive to finish our tasks? This is just too confusing. Maybe… maybe he just finds it hard to separate the times when he has to act for Voldemort's sake, and when he doesn't._

She looked around for Snape, who was once again trying not to meet her eyes. His face could have been chiselled from granite, and she knew that there was no point in pressing him on his feelings right now. She needed to choose the right moment. From what she had seen in the various memories as well as her time with that that day he obviously cared for her. _I just need to find out exactly what he feels for me. And to be sure of how I feel for him._

It was strange, watching how the normally dour man had slowly softened in his manners towards her. Besides her first night in the castle, he had been unfailingly kind and gentle with her in the memories she had seen so far, perhaps making up for his treatment of her at other times. And not only had she seen him gradually grow more relaxed around her, quicker to smile and comfort, but she had noticed her own changing behaviour towards him.

It was hard to tell, considering she could only see her actions and not feel her own emotions, but as each memory had gone by, she had seen herself begin to find reasons to casually touch him, to watch him discreetly, to be closer to him than she needed to be. She was sure she wasn't just experiencing the effect of a love potion still, instead, she had been gradually watching herself develop feelings for him. _The question is, how much have my feelings been affected by everything else that he's done to me, and can he believe that what I feel is real? Maybe there's something in the rest of my memories that will help me._

She walked over to the desk. "Professor, can I see the next one please?"

* * *

So far, Hermione couldn't understand his warning that once again she'd been quite upset this time. She'd not been given all of her memories on this occasion, as she only had until the evening to research before being obliviated again, and Hermione could see that her past self had been much more wary of Snape this time than she had been before.

Currently Snape and herself were sitting opposite from each other at his desk in the library, each with a tray of food in front of them. The atmosphere in the room was tense. Snape had only made some inane comment on the food before lapsing into silence. He had seemed to want to avoid her gaze as much as she did his. _Well this is awkward._

To pass the time before something happened Hermione walked over to the desk where she had been researching before the house-elf had popped in to ask her whether she wanted to eat. She tried to run her fingers across the two books that she had just been reading, _Magick Moste Evile_ and _Secrets of the Darkest Arts, but of course her ghostly fingers slipped straight through._

_Her past-self had just made some sort of discovery before the house-elf had popped in, and unfortunately Hermione had not had a chance to stop what it was over her own shoulder before the food had arrived. It would be in her notes though, or maybe she would get another opportunity before this memory ended._

_She'd been cross-referencing the information of horcruxes in both books, before pulling Hogwarts; A History in from of her yet again. That was when she had made an expression that Hermione had recognised as one of discovery. Something to do with Hogwarts and horcruxes. Well, the locket that the three of them had destroyed with the Sword of Gryffindor had begun to Slytherin, so that was one connection. Obviously she had just found another._

_Hermione's musings were interrupted as her past-self stood, walking over to one of the chairs by the fireplace and sitting, while Snape_ vanished the table and trays with a flick of his wand. He walked across to one of the cupboards on the opposite wall. Hermione turned to watch, forgetting for the moment about the books.

"Can I get you a drink, Miss Granger? Snape enquired politely.

"How about some firewhisky?" she replied cheekily.

"I'm afraid I'm out, but I have a rather nice brandy, if you'd like to try it."

She gaped at him. "Err, sure… thanks." Hermione giggled at the look on her own face. She'd obviously not been expecting Snape to allow her to have anything stronger than pumpkin juice. She'd only really been allowed spirits on special occasions, like Christmas, and she'd never really felt the need to partake of the occasional bottle that got smuggled into the dormitories.

Snape poured them both a measure and handed her one, settling himself into the armchair on the opposite side of the fire. They caught each other's eye, before both looked away uncomfortably. She took a cautious sip of her brandy before pulling a face as she tried to stop herself coughing. _Smooth, Hermione…_

They sat for a while in painful silence, before Snape finally spoke up. "I trust you found everything you need."

"Yes, thank you," she replied quietly.

It was a minute before he spoke again. "If there is anything I can get for you please let me know and I will try to procure it."

"I don't think there is, but I do need to speak with you and the Headm… Professor Dumbledore. There is something I need to do… If it is possibly anyway. I'm still not quite sure what's going on and why I'm here. And I definitely don't understand why you've been treating me the way you have." Her voice had raised slightly towards the end.

Snape's cheeks had turned red and he looked terribly embarrassed. Her own face had darkened in anger as she watched him.

"Why? Why did you do it all?" The colour on Snape's cheeks deepened, but he said nothing. "How can you just sit there and say nothing?" She jumped up angrily and began pacing in front of him. "How could you do those things to me? The other night… what was that all about? How dare you go poking about in my head, searching for things like that? You were looking for it on purpose weren't you?"

Hermione knew immediately what she was talking about… the night where he had searched and found the memories of her masturbating in the bath. Her cheeks coloured again at the thought, but she listened intently, interested to what Snape would say to justify himself.

Her past-self paused and looked at him. He stared back at her and made no response. She took his silence for confirmation and started pacing again. "That was supposed to be private. Why the _fuck_ would you think it's ok to do something like that?" Hermione was yelling by now, obviously forgetting her fear of him. He still made no response, and she stopped in front of him again, turning on him suddenly and shoving his shoulder with her hand.

"How dare you! You're a fucking bastard! She screeched, hitting him again. He made no move to stop her.

"I know," he said flatly, looking up at her.

She continued to lash out at him as she began to sob. He finally raised his hands to stop her, just as one of her swings caught him across the face, knocking his head to one side. He stood suddenly, and she stepped back as he loomed over her, his expression pained.

"Miss Granger, you will not…"

Enraged, she continued to claw at him, so he quickly grabbed her wrists and held them out, turning them both around and pushing her against the wall. "Stop this at once, girl!" His tone was loud and firm, the same one that Hermione had learnt to fear over the past few weeks. She saw the expression of fear on her own face as it broke through her rage, suddenly realising the position he had her in. She stopped trying to hit him, instead twisting her wrists in an attempt to escape him.

"No, no! Please don't…" she cried. Hermione could tell she was frantic with the thought that he was about to rape her again.

He looked down, his face softening immediately as he realised the reason for her distress. "Miss Granger," he said softly. Her crying had intensified, the tears rolling freely down her cheeks, her arms still held firmly in his hands, and her struggles were growing weaker.

"If I release you, will you promise not to hit me again?" She didn't hear him. "Miss Granger!" he spoke loud and insistently.

At that her head finally came up, her sobs catching in her throat. She looked up at him with wide eyes, still trembling with fear.

"I'm going to let go of you now, Miss Granger. Please… don't hit me again, or I will have to restrain you. Do you understand?

She nodded, never taking her eyes off his face. "Yes, master."

"Don't call me that," he hissed. She flinched at the venom in his voice. "I'm sorry," he apologised. "Please, Miss Granger, don't call me that," he said gently. She just looked at him with wide eyes, not replying.

Her chest was still heaving, and occasional shudders shook her, but at least she had stopped crying. Snape let go of one of her wrists carefully, waiting to grab her again if she tried to attack. But she just let the arm fall, exhausted and numb after her emotional outburst.

Her eyes were still locked on his, and Hermione could see the anguished look on his face as he looked down at her past-self. Very slowly, he raised his free hand to her face. She recoiled slightly from his hand, but he ignored the movement and wiped away the tears from her cheek.

"I hate you," she whispered.

"I know," he said gently. "And I deserve it." He let go of her other wrist and wiped her other cheek. She turned away from him, huddling against the wall. "I wish I could say that everything I have done has only been to protect you, but I would be lying. I have acted irrationally and have hurt you far more than was needed to maintain our charade. The other night… what I saw in your memories…" He struggled to find the right words. "I… justified my searching for it because the Dark Lord had mentioned it, but in reality I am ashamed to admit, I was… curious, to see for myself.

She had turned to watch him silently, her eyes wide at his confession.

"As for what happened next… I…" He pulled away suddenly, and turned his back on her. "I have no excuse, and no explanation, except to say I didn't realise what was happening at first, and when I did… I never meant…" He went silent.

Hermione couldn't see his face from where she was standing, but his body language told her all she needed to know. He was hunched in on himself, and when her past-self moved around to face him he looked away, not daring to meet her eyes.

"Professor…" she said, reaching out her hand to his shoulder. Without seeing her gesture he moved away from her. "There is nothing I can say that can make it any better, and there is no apology I can make that would be enough for what I have done to you." He fell silent, and again she moved towards him. When she finally laid her hand on his shoulder he jumped and backed away from her, a wild look in his eyes.

Hermione had already realised how hard the situation they had found themselves in was on Snape, but she had never seen him look so defeated. In the memory she seemed to have also come to the same conclusion. _I can't believe I said all that to him. I was so unfair. He's suffered just as much as I have in all this… more even. He's been doing this for years, I can't even imagine what he's seen and done…_

"Professor, I…"

His face hardened quickly and his posture straightened. "We are out of time this evening. If you wish to speak to Professor Dumbledore before I join you I would suggest you do it now."

Caught off-guard by his change in behaviour she gaped at him. He crossed the room quickly and pulled the door open. "I shall join you in my office in ten minutes. Will that be sufficient time?"

"Eeerr, oh, yes. I guess," she replied, clearly confused by the sudden chance in subject, as he disappeared in a flurry of robes.

She made her way to his study to speak to the portrait. Hermione trailed along somberly behind her, after having glanced along the hall to see if she could tell where Snape had gone. There was no sign of him _. I wonder what he's doing. Gods, I feel awful, blaming him like that._

Her past-self looked up at the portrait of Dumbledore. "Hello, Professor," she said quietly.

He smiled down at her. "How are you, my dear. Has Severus been taking care of you?"

She looked away before replying. "Yes, thank you."

"I assume you have come to talk to me about something in particular…" he smiled.

"I think... I've figured out something. I need to find Harry. I think he should know this."

Harry… I went to see Harry. She listened eagerly, as her memory-self continued to whisper to the portrait. A movement across the room caught her eye and she turned to see Snape opened the door to the office and come down the steps,

"Ah, Severus." Dumbledore spied him over the girl's head. "Miss Granger will be in need of you to assist her in her task soon."

"In what capacity?"

"You will be needed to take her somewhere. At the moment, I am not sure where exactly. It may take a few days to find the right information. For now, Miss Granger needs to save her memories and be obliviated. As soon as I find the location you will be informed."

"Professor," she said, talking to Snape. "I will wait for you in my room." She turned and left without waiting for an answer, Hermione following after. Snape watched her go with a frown.

"What happened, Severus?"

Her past-self paused to listen, the study door half closed behind her.

"It was a mistake for me to reply on your powers of persuasion instead of her own memories. She became rather… agitated. I will not make the same error again.

The door closed with a click and the memory dissolved.

* * *

 

 

When Hermione emerged from the pensieve this time she sank immediately down onto the stone steps. "Gods, I can see why you said I was upset, although that's not quite the word I would have chosen. I was awful to you, and you just stood there and didn't say anything." She looked up at Snape, standing behind his desk with an inscrutable expression on his face. He said nothing, so she got to her feet and walked around the desk to him, laying a hand gently on his arm. He watched her warily.

"Why didn't you stop me? Why didn't you defend yourself? You knew what I was doing was unfair. You should have said something." She reached her other hand up to caress the cheek that she had just witnessed herself slap hard. Snape flinched, but didn't move, although his dark eyes were fixed on hers. "Why?" she asked again when he made no reply.

Snape was silent a few moments longer, and her hand faltered on his cheek. "I deserved everything you said," he stated simply. "I am not a good person."

She began to run her fingers over his cheek again. "You're wrong. Everything you've done to me was for a reason…" He raised an eyebrow at her, and she coloured slightly, thinking of the few instances where he had admitted to doing something that was unnecessary. "Well almost everything." Her thumb began to stray closer to his bottom lip. "Everyone makes mistakes, especially in a situation like ours. You are not a bad person…"

Snape grabbed her wrists suddenly, holding them tightly. Hermione's fingers stilled on his cheeks but he did not pull her hands away. "Do you honestly think you are the only person I have ever done something like this to?" he growled fiercely, his dark eyes flashing. "The Dark Lord only gave you to me because in the past I proved myself… adept… at bending his opponents to his will"

Now he pulled her hands down, before stepping closer, looming menacingly over her. Hermione took a step back, wide-eyed at his sudden change in demeanour, and trying her hardest to damp down the tiny flicker of fear that had sprung up inside her. She couldn't go far, for he still held her wrists.

"You think a nice person would be capable of doing the things I have done to you, whether you agreed to them or not? My abilities with Legilimency and Potions have helped me break more people than I care to remember. You are lucky that from the beginning the Dark Lord saw you as valuable enough to want you kept relatively healthy, in both body and mind. I would not have been able to hesitate if I or another had been ordered to seriously hurt, or even kill you, my position is too important. If I had had to I would have cast the killing curse on you without a second thought. If the Dark Lord had commanded me to, I would have broken and raped your body and your mind. I have done it before, this time would have been no different."

Hermione gasped, her eyes filling with tears at the hateful words. The fact that she knew that at least part of what he was saying was a lie had escaped her for the moment. Snape moved towards her again as he saw her falter and back away from him.

"I told you before not to assume you know me. You... know… nothing, girl, and you understand even less," he snarled. Snape moved back, and made a motion as if to turn away, but Hermione remembered enough to gather her courage and stop him by grabbing his coat sleeve, her anger suddenly flaring.

"You say I know nothing of what you go through, that I don't know just how much danger I am in right now. You're wrong! I may understand right now why you had to do these things to me, but I didn't when you were raping me. I thought you were an evil sick bastard who was going to abuse me any way you wanted. Every time you take me before _him_ I am terrified that I will be killed or tortured, or that he will give me to someone else who will treat me worse than you have done. I know full well what you and his followers are capable of, I've been living with it for the past few weeks!

"Don't you dare tell me I don't understand! I know more than you think, and I'm not scared of learning the rest. Do you think I will be revolted by what I might learn? You think I can't guess at the horrible things you've had to do to prove your loyalty to that… that monster? I can see how much what you have to do to me pains you! I'm not stupid! Even when you've taken my memories, I can still see it in your eyes… all the hate and disgust. I thought it was for me, but it isn't, is it? You can't stand yourself for what you have to do, what you had to do to all those others."

Snape had backed off as she yelled at him, although her voice had softened towards the end as she ran out of steam, and she was sure she could see a hint of uncertainty and something else on his face. She pressed herself closer to him, her head thrown back to look up into his heated eyes. "You're not a bad person, you've just been forced to do bad things."

"You seem to forget that I chose this life, I joined of my own free will, before you were even born. I have no right to ask for or expect forgiveness for my actions." His voice was still bitter and angry, although it had lost most of its fire.

"And if you were given that choice now? If the only factor affecting your choice was whether you want to or not?" She looked up at him questioningly.

Snape just sneered down at her, before turning suddenly and stalking over to his office door, slamming it behind him. Hermione walked across to his desk unsteadily, and sat on the chair behind it, waiting for her pounding heart to recover from the fright and then the adrenaline that had coursed through her as she stood up and challenged him. _I can't believe I just said all that. Gods, he probably hates me now._ She sighed heavily.

"You would do well to remember that Severus is adept at pushing people away when he starts to feel threatened, Miss Granger. I hope you do not take his outburst to heart, although you did seem to be managing him quite admirably."

Hermione looked up at the portrait behind the desk. "What do you mean, threatened? I didn't do anything."

"You have done more than most, and got closer to him than he likes to allow, and that is precisely why Severus feels threatened."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Dumbledore carried on quickly.

"Severus is in great need of someone who can understand, although he would not like to admit it. You are in a unique position to do so, considering what the two of you have been through together these past few weeks."

"But what about what he said, that I shouldn't think I know him, just because of all… this." She waved her hand at the phials containing her memories and the pensieve lying on the table beside her.

"Severus has been alone for so long he finds it hard to open up to anyone. For the past 18 years everything he has done has been at my request, in the service of the order. Yes, he has been forced to perform unspeakable acts, but they have been for the greater good, much like your own situation here. I believe he was over-exaggerating slightly when he told you of the people he has done this to before. As far as he has ever reported to me, the times he has been asked to use his skills to break or manipulate another's mind it was done as quickly as painlessly as he could manage. There have certainly been no other times with the situation has become so… intimate as yours. Severus has always tried to do his best, both for you, and the others."

"He obviously doesn't agree with you there. He thinks that what he has done is unforgivable. " she snapped testily, realising just how much Dumbledore had put him through over the years.

"Severus' conscience weighs heavily on him, and knowing what sort of man he truly is, I would expect no less of him. He has found this particular situation much harder to deal with than any other, most likely because he cannot end it quickly like he has done before. I know your continued forgiveness and understanding have made a great deal of difference to him. He just doesn't know how to show it. Severus cares a great deal for you, however, whatever he may do or say. You must just be patient until he is comfortable enough to open up and express this for himself."

"It's no wonder he doesn't know how to open up to people when he's been forced to do all the horrible thing you've asked of him. How can you expect him to do the things he's done and not be affected? You asked too much of him, and I'm amazed he's not gone insane from the pressure. You've ask him to kill and torture, and he hasn't had one person to help him through it. By forcing him to kill you, you made him into a pariah, he had no one to turn to when everyone thought the worst of him, and yet you still expect more of him."

There was silence for a few moments, and Hermione coloured as she realised how strongly he had been berating the old Headmaster. Dumbledore stared down at her seriously, but not unkindly, holding her gaze.

"I believe Severus is quite mistaken about you, Miss Granger. I hope one day he has the chance to realise it for himself. You obviously do not need me to ask you to try to show him some understanding, and for that I am quite glad." The twinkle had returned to his eyes.

Hermione frowned. "What…?"

"Now, I believe it would be a good idea for you to continue viewing your memories. You are aware you may not return to Severus' chambers, and he may be some time before he cools off enough to return. You will have plenty to do, and you know how he feels about wasting time." He gave her a look that brooked no refusal, and, grumbling under her breath Hermione turned back to the pensieve. She picked up the next memory and looked at it thoughtfully.

"Umm, Professor…?" she asked cautiously.

"Miss Granger?"

"Do you remember exactly where this memory was taken from?" She wasn't sure why, but knowing exactly when she'd had memories taken from her had become quite important, the dates having become so jumbled up in her mind due to the missing days.

"I believe it was three days ago, the day before Voldemort returned from his two-week absence and called Severus to his side."

"The whole day?"

"Correct, Miss Granger."

She carefully removed the last memory from the pensieve with her wand, enjoying the way she was able to use her magic after so long without. Once she had placed it back in the correct phial she took the next one, tipping it in.

 _What happened before that? It doesn't seem like only 3 days ago._ It was so hard to imagine that she could be so ignorant of all the day and hours that had been taken from her. Her memories of her time as Snape's prisoner seemed unbroken, except for the times she had previously believed she had passed out from the Cruciatus Curse. Her cheeks suddenly reddened as she remembered what had happened the night before Voldemort had returned. _That was when he first gave me the potions book… after he… Oh Gods, this is all such a mess._ The memory of his hand between her legs and his mouth on her breast was so vivid for a moment that she could almost feel it, and she had to squeeze her thighs together to assuage the dull ache she could now feel.

She blushed again, unable to take her mind off the way he had touched her as she lay prone in his lap, and the way he had brought her to the first of two orgasms so much more intense than any she had ever given herself. She almost couldn't believe that it was only three days ago, or four, if she counted the lost day, that she'd still been fighting her attraction to him, although she realised now that she had been for quite a while. The use of the love potion that Snape had mentioned had only seemed to speed up the inevitable.

 _Come on Hermione, you have better things to do than sit here getting horny in front of a bunch of old paintings._ Trying to take her mind off the hot throbbing between her thighs, she leaned over the pensive and was quickly pulled in.


	34. Chapter 34

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

 

* * *

The last of her memories dissolved around her, and Hermione found herself back in the Headmaster's study. She was not surprised to see that Snape was still absent. A quick glance at the old clock standing against one wall told her that it was now just past three. She was starting to feel hungry again, but figured she'd wait for Snape. A meal would give them a reason to sit and face each other yet give them both something to do should conversation prove too awkward. She wasn't even sure whether the house-elf she had seen earlier would respond to her, and she couldn't go into Snape's rooms to fix herself something.

Hermione sat down on the chair she had transfigured earlier, and finally dragged the pile of books she'd been eyeing all day across in front of her. She recognised them all from her memories, and was itching to get reading, but she'd decided to go over her notes carefully first. She knew she'd not managed to read everything she'd written over her own shoulder, and she didn't want to miss anything, or go over old territory.

She was quickly grateful for the references she'd written in the margins, as she would have been lost without being able to flick through to the appropriate chapter to give her a better idea of what she had been writing about. Soon she was lost in her notes and books, and had half-forgotten where she was, so, when there was a sharp rapping on the office door, she almost fell out of her chair in shock. W _ho's that? It can't be Snape… he wouldn't knock at his own door!_

Forgetting for a moment that Snape had warded the door carefully she looked round for a place to hide. Despite the amount of clutter, there was nowhere except under the desk that help a space big enough for her, and even that would afford her no protection if someone walked around it. She looked around wildly as whoever it was knocked again.

_What do I do?_ Her eyes fell suddenly on her wand which was lying on the desk. Of course… She grabbed it and ran across to an empty spot near the bottom of the stairs that lead up to their rooms. She quickly cast the strongest disillusionment charm she could manage on herself, before pressing herself up against the wall. Hopefully whoever it was would not actually making it into the office, but it didn't hurt to be safe. As she stood trembling there was a single knock then silence. Hermione held her breath and listened carefully. _Did they go away?_

She was half-convinced it was safe when, with no warning, the door suddenly flew open and Snape stormed through, his eyes darting around wildly as he spoke sharply to the woman over his shoulder.

"…no time for this today, Minerva."

_Professor McGonagall… Oh Gods, my research… the memories_. She glanced worriedly towards the desk.

Snape's eyes found her, despite the concealment charm, and, taking care not to be seen by the irate woman behind him, he lifted his wand towards her and muttered a few words under his breath. _How did he see me? What did he just do?_ His stride never faltered as he moved towards his desk.

"Then you will just have to make time, Headmaster," McGonagall snapped back.

Snape reached his desk, frowned down for an instant at the array of phials, books and parchment littering the surface and his eyes flicked back for a second towards the corner she was standing in again. He moved round behind the desk, his wand out. McGonagall eyed it cautiously, but continued to walk towards him.

He lifted his wand, and the scattered objects began to tidy themselves, the phials disappearing quickly into the desk drawers, and the pensieve gliding smoothly over towards the cupboard. McGonagall watched curiously as the parchment and book began to stack neatly on the wooden surface, but luckily chose not to comment. Snape turned round to face her. Hermione tried not to bounce on her toes as she watched the two teachers.

"Since you are already taking up my time… what is it you want to discuss with me now, Minerva? What has one of your precious Gryffindors done this time? Or are you here to accuse me of something else this time?"

"I have not come to discuss the deplorable way you have been running this school. I have heard… There are rumours… that you are holding a student in your chambers, a female muggleborn, to be precise."

"And where would you have heard such a rumour, if indeed it truly exists," he sneered back.

McGonagall pressed her lips together tightly, obviously not willing to give up the information.

"I see. I take it by your presence here that you believe these rumours," he asked, sneering at her as he began to move round the desk. "Do you not think I get my fill of those dunderheads without feeling the need to lock one up with me in my rooms? What purpose could I possibly have in doing such a thing?" As he moved, one of his long sleeves caught the top of the pile of parchment and sent the top two pieces flying. Hermione automatically took a step forward before she remembered she needed to stay still. Snape quickly grabbed one piece, but could only watch the second flutter towards McGonagall who picked it up.

What little colour there was drained from Snape's face as she stood up straight again, holding the parchment carefully in both hands. Hermione could tell that he was making a large effort not to rip it out from her hands, but he couldn't help flicking his eyes towards her corner once more as she pressed herself back against the wall.

McGonagall followed his gaze across to where she stood, and she froze, thinking she'd been spotted. But after a moment she just frowned and turned her attention back to Snape, forgetting the parchment in her hands.

"It was suggested…" McGonagall paused, her mouth twisting in distaste.

"What? That I have locked up some poor girl just so I could force my attentions on her…? That is what you are so unwilling to say, is it not?"

McGonagall pinched her lips together again, looking nauseated at the thought. "The rumours were fairly explicit. There was little doubt as to the implications of what was discussed. Severus, please…"

"And you believed them…?" His voice was angry as he struggled to keep his composure and his eyes away from where Hermione was. She felt for him. He may have been forced to do such things to her, but she knew he had hated every moment. Snape was almost succeeding in keeping the expression off his face, but she knew him too well by now. The accusation had really upset him. She longed to run to his side and defend him against McGonagall.

"Once upon a time I would have never given it a moments though, but now… now I am not longer sure what to believe."

"Believe what you wish. I doubt whatever I say would convince you otherwise, you seem so certain of my guilt." His whole stance now radiated his fury and resentment at her words, as he stood stiff with his fists clenched, scowling menacingly at her.

"That is no answer, Severus! Are you or are you not holding a student in your rooms?" She stood her ground, obviously unwilling to drop the matter without an answer.

Snape glared back at her for a few moments before his shoulders dropped, the icy mask descending on his face once more. "I can assure you, I am not holding anyone here against their will. Now, if you have no further business…" He bit out the words through clenched teeth before raising an eyebrow at her questioningly.

"I have plenty of things to say to you, but none that you'd care to listen to, I'm sure," McGonagall retorted, turning away to leave.

Snape cleared his throat, holding his hand out for the parchment. McGonagall paused, before spinning back and lifting it toward him, finally looking at it for the first time since picking it up. As his fingers closed over it, she made a strangled noise and tugged it back away from him, peering at it incredulously. _Oh Gods, no! She can't find out! What will we do if she realises? What will he do to her?_ Hermione felt her stomach drop as realisation began to dawn on Professor McGonagall's face.

"Minerva…" He reached out for it again, but she stepped back, holding it out of his reach. Snape immediately became defensive, stepping back from the desk and fingering his wand anxiously as he watched her, his expression dark. Hermione took another step forward, but Snape stopped her with a flick of his fingers. _How did he know? Can he still see me?_

McGonagall raised her head at his motion. "What is this?" She waved the parchment at him. "What are you doing with it? This is Miss Granger's handwriting. I would recognise it anywhere. And why do you have her writing about such disgusting, dark magic like…?"

"Minerva!" Snape snapped loudly, breaking McGonagall's tirade, but she only turned her attention to the pile of parchment covered in Hermione's own writing on the desk between them. She stepped forward, running her hand down the stack of books that stood there too. A resigned look spread over Snape's face, and Hermione held her breath, anxious to see what would happen next.

"So, it _is_ true. And you are holding Miss Granger. Why, Severus? " she asked in a low dangerous voice.

Hermione could see her fingers moving slowly towards the wand in her pocket. She wanted to cry out, to warn Snape, but she knew he didn't want her to reveal herself. Snape's eyes flicked momentarily towards her corner once again.

"What have you done to the girl? By the gods, Severus, if you have laid one finger on that girl's head I'll…"

"You'll what, Minerva?" Snape growled. "You'll hex me? DO you really think it wise to threaten me?"

"You will release Miss Granger immediately," she replied, ignoring his words. Hermione felt a surge of affection for the elderly witch, and her eyes darted between the two of them, hoping it wouldn't come down to a fight _. I can't leave him. This is too important. He's too important to… to Harry and the fight against Voldemort._

"And why would I want to do that?" Snape drawled.

McGonagall's eyes widened as his words confirmed her suspicions, and she quickly pulled out her wand, just as Snape lifted his. But instead of pointing it at him, she spun quickly, holding her wand towards Hermione.

"Finite Incantatum!"


	35. Chapter 35

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

 

* * *

 

After decades of teaching Minerva McGonagall rarely found herself truly surprised any more. But the sight of the normally dry and irritable man crouched in front of her, cradling the unconscious girl carefully in his arms had astounded her beyond anything. _Maybe I am mistaken. Is there truly more to this than meets the eye?_ Her mouth fell open slightly as Snape brushed Hermione's hair back from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek, apparently oblivious to Minerva's continued presence in the room. _What is he doing?_

When she had overheard the disgusting conversation between the two death-eaters posing as teachers, she had gone from horrified to disbelieving in a matter of seconds. To think that Severus Snape would be capable of treating a student in such a way seemed at first laughable. The man had never shown interest in a woman since… well… as far back as she could remember, and his contempt and loathing towards the entire student body almost convinced her it was all one horrible joke.

But then doubt had crept in as she remembered how he had turned out to be a traitor, killing Dumbledore and showing his true allegiance. If he was capable of that, of following a madman and taking part in the heinous acts perpetrated by Voldemort's followers, then maybe it was possible that he could hold a girl against his will and force himself on her, as the Carrows had so gleefully been suggesting. She knew there was no way she could let it go without finding out for herself.

He would have probably convinced her of his innocence if she hadn't caught the way he had continually glanced towards the bottom of the stairs leading up to his chambers. That, and his unusual inability to control his the expressions that had crossed his face in the course of the conversation had convinced her that he was hiding something. He'd expressed more differing emotions in the course of one conversation that she could remember seeing in the whole of their acquaintance. What had been making him so… discomposed?

Then she had looked at the parchment she had been about to hand him. There was no way she would forget Hermione Granger's handwriting. She had read more written by that girl than four of five other students put together, and had always looked for her neat script so she could put the girl's work to the bottom of the pile, leaving the best until last.

The sly glances and a glimpse of a poorly concealed signal aimed at an apparently empty wall, and she'd put two and two together and realised that the Carrow's had indeed been telling the truth. The moment she'd ended the concealment around the girl the situation had gone from dangerous to bizarre and now she was watching, incredulously, as realisation began to dawn upon her. Snape… he cared for the girl…? Or was there another explanation for the scene before her.

She winced as Snape pressed his hand to a spot of the back of the girl's head and pulled it away again, a few spots of blood on his fingers. She hadn't meant to hit the girl with her spell, much less have her fly into the cupboard and hit her head. The charm had been aimed at Snape, but the girl had thrown herself in front at the last second, screaming his name. She narrowed her eyes in thought as she thought back over the events of the last few minutes. Had she missed something? Or was his control over the girl so complete that she would throw herself in front of an unknown spell for him?

***flashback***

Minerva had paused only for a moment to look at the shocked girl still pressed against the wall, before she spun back to Snape, her wand now pointed at him. He seemed at frozen as her, uncertainty written clearly across his face.

"Get behind me, Miss Granger," she snapped, expecting the girl to obey immediately. She didn't take her eyes off the dark man standing behind his desk.

"Professor Snape…? She heard Hermione say.

Snape was still facing the girl, completely ignoring her outstretched wand.

"Quickly please, Miss Granger!"

Still the girl did not move, and Minerva risked a glance over to her. The girl was returning Snape's gaze, a look of indecision on her face. _What is she doing? What has that bastard done to her?_

"What do I do?" she questioned Snape.

Snape frowned. "What do you wish, Hermione? We could end this now, if that is what you want." His voice was strangely subdued. Minerva continued to observe them silently as a myriad of emotions passed over the girl's face.

"If I left you… he would…"

"Yes, that is still the likely outcome, perhaps even more so since he now expects you to make sure he gets what he wants." He paused. "He could do nothing to me that I do not deserve, ten times over. The decision is yours, girl."

Minerva listened curiously to his cryptic words. Obviously Hermione had understood them better than she, for she looked from one Professor back to the other before nodding gravely. The girl stepped towards Minerva, and she caught the way Snape's face fell momentarily, before becoming resigned. Then he quickly schooled it carefully back into indifference.

Minerva kept her eyes locked on Snape, sure that he would do something to stop her, so she was surprised when she felt Hermione's hand on her wand arm, pressing it down gently, as if wanting her to lower it.

"Please, Professor," she asked. "There's no need for this."

_What's the girl doing? Does he have her under the Imperius curse_? "I assure you there is every need, Miss Granger. I assume you know what this man is, what he has done?"

"No, please, it's not what you think. He's not what you think. He's done it all to help us."

Minerva scoffed at her words. "I find that highly unlikely. What have you done to her, Severus? She asked coldly. "The Imperius curse? Or did you slip her some vile potion?"

Snape's eyes shifted almost imperceptibly so she knew she had hit on the truth.

"Professor, please let us explain," Hermione pleaded.

"There's nothing to explain, girl. He's obviously done something to you to force you to stay with him. I will not allow it to continue. I will remove you by force, if necessary." She locked eyes with Snape, who was watching Hermione with a strange expression.

"I can't leave him, Professor," she said apologetically, removing her hand from Minerva's arm and walking towards Snape.

Minerva was astonished to see an almost tender look cross Snape's face as he held out his hand to the girl. _No! I will not let this happen._ Quickly, as Hermione stepped around the desk, giving her a clear shot at Snape, she flourished her wand, disarming an unsuspecting Snape wordlessly. Hermione whirled round as Minerva cast another spell his way, this time to stupefy him so that she would have a chance to spirit the girl away.

"No!" the girl screamed, as she flung herself in front of Snape, taking the full strength of the blast. The force of the spell and her own momentum carried her past Snape and she crashed into one of the cupboards behind the desk, hitting her head hard on one corner. Snape stood frozen in shock for one second before rushing over to the girl with an inarticulate cry, pulling her into his arms.

"Hermione…" he whispered. "You foolish girl."

***end flashback***

Several moments lingered in her mind more than others. Snape had given the girl the choice, stay or leave. _Why would he do such a thing, unless she was truly here of her own free will? No… it's a trick. He's a master at manipulation… he managed to convince Albus of his good intentions and look what happened_. But the look on Snape's face when he though Hermione had chosen to leave him… he'd seemed to truly believe she was abandoning him, and for a second he'd almost appeared… crushed.

Snape lifted the girl into his arms, turning to her. "Well, don't just stand there, Minerva. Help me with her."

Minerva started at his words, she'd been so lost in contemplation. With her wand she quickly lifted a chair that was standing in front of the desk down on to the main part of the floor, and transfigured it into a small bed. Snape moved round the desk as carefully as he could, before laying Hermione down.

"What did you hit her with?" he asked, gently arranging the girl's limb's so she looked more comfortable. Minerva noted how comfortable he seemed touching her, when he'd always been someone to shy away from any contact.

"I didn't m…" she began to protest, but at Snape's glare her words faltered. "It was only a _Stupefy._ How bad is her head?"

"It only seems to be a superficial cut. I don't believe it is serious…"

"Then a simple _Enervate_ …

"There are… there may be… complications. Miss Granger has had to be Obliviated, on several occasions. I do not want to risk forcing her to become conscious is there is any possibility of injury to her head. I believe it would be safer to let her wake on her own."

"Obliviated…why? What have you been doing to the girl, Severus? If you have been forcing her to…"

"I will not discuss it until Miss Granger is conscious again, Minerva. I will not risk you misunderstanding the situation, and you need to hear for yourself that I have not forced her into any of this."

Snape stood suddenly, walking round his desk to pull a phial out from the top drawer. "A general healing potion," he said in answer to her questioning glance. He returned to the bed, stooping down to retrieve his wand from where it had fallen. When he stood again he shot her a dark glance that made her clutch tightly the wand still in her hand. She'd almost forgotten who she was dealing with in her concern for the girl.

Snape move back to sit beside Hermione on the bed. "Help me lift her," he said.

Minerva hesitated. She'd have to put her wand down to lift the girl upright so he could give her the potion. Could she trust him enough?

"Merlin's balls, Minerva, haven't you realised by now I'm not going to hurt you or the girl?"

She raised her eyebrows at his tone, but noticed the concerned look on his face as he held Hermione. _Oh gods, I hope this isn't a mistake._ She tucked her wand up her sleeve and sat down on the other side of the bed to Snape. Between the two of them they sat her up carefully, Minerva holding her weight as he lifted her chin, tipping the potion in slowly and stroking her throat to encouraging her to swallow. Eventually the girl had taken all of it and they carefully laid her back against the pillow.

Snape tilted Hermione's head away from him and touched the back of her head where she had been hurt. "It looks fine. We just have to wait for her to wake up now." He stayed seated, watching the girl carefully.

Minerva stood up and began to pace around the room slowly, still furiously contemplating everything she had seen and heard. She was impatient to understand what was going on, but Snape was clearly not going to talk until the girl had woken up.

A few minutes later, Hermione began to stir, moving her head slightly from side to side and grimacing as she struggled back towards consciousness. Minerva stopped pacing where she could see the girl, but kept her distance from the bed as she waited for her to wake fully. Hermione's eyes fluttered open, eventually fixing on Snape who was hanging over her protectively.

"Severus…? She whispered, lifting her hand towards his face.

"I'm here, Hermione," he replied, using his own hand to press hers against his cheek while Minerva looked on at the intimate moment incredulously. "Whatever possessed you to do such a stupid thing?"

"If Professor McGonagall had knocked you out instead there would have been little I could do to stop her taking me away from you. She'd never have believed you weren't controlling me in some way."

"But you could have been seriously hurt. You didn't know what spell she was using."

Hermione shrugged. "She might think badly of you, but I don't think she would have tried to seriously hurt you unless you'd fought back."

Snape was silent for a moment, running his fingers gently over hers as he struggled to speak again. "Hermione, I'm… I apologise for how I spoke to you earlier. I was cruel and my actions were unnecessary. I'm don't know how to…"

She shook her head, pressing her fingers against his lips. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have assumed I understand what you've been through. I should never have said what I did."

Snape made no reply, instead turning his head slightly to press his lips against her wrist. Hermione smiled up at him softly, and then Snape did something Minerva had never seen him do before. He smiled back at her, the expression making him seem far younger.

She turned away, slightly embarrassed and feeling like she was intruding on an intimated moment between two lovers. Clearly there was something going on with the two of them, but she wouldn't have believed it of either of them if she had not witnessed it with her own eyes. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about the idea. Snape was twice the girl's age, and a death-eater to boot, although she couldn't imagine that Miss Granger would be capable of such behaviour if she didn't know something that Minerva herself was unaware of. _She must believe that he isn't what he seems. But is she right about him?_

Minerva found herself facing the portrait of a snoring Dumbledore. She'd been in this room a few times since Snape had become Headmaster, and had yet to see the old man awake. "Gods, Albus, I could really do with some help on this one," she whispered, not expecting an answer as she glanced back over her shoulder at the two on the bed. "What in Merlin's name is going on here?" She watched as Snape carefully helped Hermione to sit up and swing her legs off the bed.

"I'm sure once Miss Granger has recovered we can discuss the situation until you are satisfied, Minerva, although I must ask that whatever you learn does not leave this room."

She turned back to the painting in surprise.

"Hello, my dear. How have you been?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes twinkling.

 

* * *

Minerva leant back in the comfortable chair she'd transfigured for herself an hour ago and observed the two other people in the room. Hermione was sat in a chair next to her, explaining what had been happening, while Snape, who was the other side of the desk, had been quiet and subdued since the conversation had begun. He'd barely said a word, instead letting Hermione and Albus talk.

She listened intently as Hermione finished speaking, bringing the story of how and why she'd ended up a prisoner in Snape's rooms to an end. Minerva reluctantly found herself agreeing with the need for her to be there, although she still found it quite inappropriate for the girl to be shut up and alone with him. She was convinced that there was a lot more going on than she'd been told. The girl had been unusually sparse with the details of what she'd been doing for the past few weeks, beyond cooking, cleaning and her appearances in front of Voldemort.

The revelations she'd heard over the past hour had completely reversed the opinion she'd created of the silent man before her. All the anger she'd built up over the past year had dissolved, and she now felt a great deal of sympathy for him after what he'd had to go through. He'd had to endure more than anyone, and he'd done it alone. No wonder he'd been surlier than usual this year and taken to hiding in his rooms as much as possible.

Actually, not all her anger had gone. She'd reserved a good portion for Albus. It was lucky for him he was already dead, or she'd have taken him to task over putting the poor boy through so much, as well as showing a complete lack of trust in herself. Had Albus honestly thought she was incapable of keeping this a secret or understanding why he'd asked Snape to do such a horrible thing? She was offended that he'd not confided in her, and had told him so.

Shouting at a painting hadn't had the same effect as shouting at the real man, unfortunately. She'd got next to no satisfaction out of it half an hour previously, although, looking up at the portrait on the wall she noticed he still seemed to be sulking. At least he hadn't taken part in the conversation since. She was still fuming about the whole affair, and the last thing she needed was for him to make one of his puerile comments right now.

Her eyes fell on Severus, who was in turn watching Hermione. What Albus had done to him was inexcusable, and it was no wonder he had formed an attachment to the girl. He'd had no one else. She wondered exactly what was going on between the two of them. It was unlikely to be a particularly healthy relationship, considering the circumstances, yet they were oddly sweet, almost shy with each other. Maybe it hadn't gone as far as she'd originally thought.

In the light of Snape's true allegiance it was unlikely that what the Carrows had been talking about was true; that Snape was raping the girl, let alone allowing the other death-eaters to have their fun with her. The girl certainly didn't look as if she'd been mistreated, although she had lost weight since the last time Minerva had seen her. It must have all been wishful thinking on Amycus' part.

She still wished she knew exactly what was going on between them, but every time the conversation had turned that way even Hermione had become strangely taciturn, most unlike her. Minerva resolved to try and speak to Albus about it as soon as she had the chance to be alone with the painting.

For that matter, she obviously needed to spend some time alone with the girl, partly to make sure she really was ok with the situation and not just putting on a brave face, but mainly to discuss the task that Potter had been set, and which the Weasley boy and Hermione herself had been assisting with. After having scanned the girl's notes and hearing what Hermione and Severus had had to say, she had put two and two together and had come up with a good guess at what the task probably involved. She couldn't think of another reason why the girl would be researching Horcruxes.

She waved her hand towards the books and parchment that were still sitting on the table. "What about the work you've been doing on…"

"Minerva…"

"Professor McGonagall…"

Snape and Hermione both spoke at the same time, bringing her up short. She looked from one to the other questioningly, but it was Snape this time that spoke.

"If you must discuss what Miss Granger has been working on, you will have to do it out of my hearing. Albus does not think it safe for me to know what she and her… friends have been doing the past year, in case he is able to read it in my mind." His sneer told her what he thought of being kept out of the loop.

Minerva glanced at the time. It was not long before she would have to make an appearance in the Great Hall for dinner. "Severus, I will have to leave soon to attend dinner, or my absence will be noted. I have been in here far too long as it is. If someone has noticed, it would difficult to explain. I will find a way to return later, and I wish to speak to both Miss Granger and yourself individually."

"No, Minerva, I cannot allow you to leave yet, not until you've heard everything, and then I will need your oath that you will not reveal anything, not even to other order members. This is too important to risk anyone else knowing. I have one final task that Albus has asked me to perform."

"But the Order should…"

"Your oath, or I will obliviate you. This cannot go further than this room."

"I don't understand why. Surely you would be relieved to know that others in the Order know that you were only following Albus' orders. It would stop them from trying to kill you if there was a fight, or you were sent on a raid."

"That is precisely why they cannot know. Even I am not above suspicion, and there are many who watch me carefully for any sign of treachery, who wish to see me fall so they can take my place. The Carrow's continually report to the Dark Lord that I am too soft on the students, and try to undermine my position. Due to my position here I am not expected to go on any of the raids, so there is little risk of my having to fight a member of the Order.

"But this will all come to a head sooner or later, Severus. There will be a fight, and you would be in terrible danger then. Almost everyone in the Order wants to be the one to bring you down. Who would complete your task if you were killed? It would be better for…

"No. If anyone was to see a member of the Order show a moment's hesitation before attacking me they would be sure to report it. The Dark Lord knows full well how much I am hated for killing Albus, and many of the Death-Eaters would take any chance offered to stab me in the back. I must be completely above suspicion so that I can stay close to the Dark Lord until the end. I have taken steps to ensure my task is completed, should anything happen to me." His eyes flicked over to the girl so quickly Minerva was unsure she had seen it.

"You must promise me that you will not betray my true allegiance, and you must continue to act the way you have for the last year. It must seem as if you wish for nothing more than to see me dead. If you cannot agree, or think you will not be able to act well enough to convince everyone, I _will_ obliviate you, Minerva."

 

 

 


	36. Chapter 36

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

  


* * *

Snape visibly relaxed as she gave her word not to divulge what she knew to the rest of the Order. Minerva still didn't completely agree with him but knew there was no point in continuing to try and persuade him otherwise. As for continuing to act the same way around him that she had been for the past year, she was more than confident in her abilities to convince everyone she still blamed and hated him for Albus' death. It wasn't like she'd ever been overly demonstrative with her emotions, and even in the past year she'd managed in public to treat Snape almost as coolly as she had previously, understanding that her job this year was to protect the students as well as possible, rather than standing up to the darkness that had invaded her world.

She looked over at Hermione. Once again the girl was watching Snape, worry producing small furrows across her brow. Suddenly she turned to look at Minerva, and a faint blush spread across her face at being caught staring at him. Minerva raised an eyebrow at her reaction and the girl looked down to avoid her gaze. _I'll find out what's causing that blush soon enough,_ she determined. She'd have to get the girl alone once she came back. She looked back over to Snape.

"But what about dinner Severus. It is due to start any moment and I am expected to be in my place before the students are brought in." Mealtimes were one of the worst parts of the day now. She hated the way the students had to march in under the watchful eyes of the Carrow twins, sitting and eating in silence before leaving the same way. What had once been a place and time for all the houses to come together and socialise was now one of the more obvious ways in which the school had changed. At least in her own classroom or out in the hallways between lessons she could almost imagine nothing had changed, even if the students were more subdued than before.

"We will finish this discussion first. Do not worry about the time." Minerva watched as Snape reached down and opened a drawer before placing an object on the desk between them. Her eyes widened slightly as he recognised the time-turner that she'd given Hermione in the third year.

"I suggest we ruturn to approximately ten minutes after we entered this room, so that if anyone was watching, it would appear as if we had just had a short conversation, nothing more. You will be able to go about you normal routine. I will be informing the Dark Lord about what you overheard. I believe he will be quite displeased to hear if it." The corner of his lip curled slightly." Hopefully it will be enough to get them off my back, for a short time at least."

Minerva nodded in agreement to the plan as he spoke again.

"Now, Minerva, is there anything else you wish to discuss with the both of us?"

"I don't believe so. Miss Granger?" Minerva turned again to look at the girl, who shook her head, still not quite able to meet her eyes.

"Would you prefer to speak privately to myself or Miss Granger first?"

"I'll speak to Miss Granger first, if you don't mind, Severus." She was still watching the girl, and therefore saw the quickly supressed look of panic that crossed her face. She flicked her eyes up at Snape, who appeared not to have noticed her consternation.

"Go ahead, although I'm afraid that at the moment we will all have to stay in this room. You will have to use a silencing charm around the both of you."

She frowned, wondering why Snape couldn't go to his rooms for a short time until they had finished, but Hermione had already risen up out of her chair, obviously intending to leave Snape at his desk and to talk in the other end of the room. She used her wand to lift the two chair across the room, while a thoughtful looking Hermione picked up the stack of books from the desk, balancing the parchment on top, and walking carefully across the room.

"Minerva…" Snape spoke quietly, and turned away from watching the girl to look at him. "I know you want to make sure she's ok, without my listening in to the conversation, but please… go easy on her. This situation has been… hard on her, and fraught with difficulties. I have…" Here he trailed off, anguish clearly marked on his face as he watched the girl struggle across the room. Minerva's heart softened as she saw how clearly he cared about the girl. _Whatever I find out from the girl, I am sure it will not be that he has been abusing her._

Hermione carefully put the stack of books down on a small table next to one of the chairs and turned to look across the room at them, flexing her strained fingers. The emotion on Snape's face was quickly replaced by a smirk. "I see you seem to have forgotten you're a witch, Miss Granger. Or have you forgotten how to use a simple levitation charm."

For a moment Minerva though the girl was going to stick her tongue out at Snape, but suddenly she deflated, slumping down into the chair behind her. "I forgot I had my wand again," she said quietly, her eyes slowly coming up to meet his.

The smirk disappeared off Snape's face, and the two just looked at each other for a few seconds, something passing between them silently. Snape suddenly turned away, breaking the moment. Hermione's eyes followed him as he sat back down at his desk and pulled a book toward him. Once he had begun to flick through the pages, the girl turned to her.

"Professor, what did you want to speak to me about?" She smiled nervously, biting her lower lips gently, and clearly struggling to keep her eyes off Snape.

Minerva crossed the room towards her, flicking her wand and silently erecting a silencing charm around them, before settling in the chair across from Hermione.

"Since we seem to have plenty of time, I'd like you to start again from the beginning and tell me everything you were unable to speak of in front of Professor Snape, most particularly what you, Mr Potter and Mr Weasely have been doing for the past 9 months, and how it relates to horcruxes.

The girl looked almost panicked for a second as she mentioned horcruxes, and then her face shifted to an expression of relief at not being asked anything more personal. Her eyes flicked once more across the room towards Snape before she pulled herself together. _Don't worry, Miss Granger, we'll get to that later._

The girl tapped a finger on her lower lip for a moment as she thought. "It all really started last year, when Professor Dumbledore began to show Harry certain memories…"

* * *

Almost an hour later they were going through the notes that Hermione had thought important enough to share with her concerning her continuing search for the remaining horcruxes. Sweet Merlin… as if one wasn't enough… but six…! The girl had done an admirable job of reasoning out what they might be looking for, and they were currently discussing what the last possible horcruxes might be.

"I will give it some more though, and will speak to some of the other teacher to see if they can recall any particular item that may relate to either Ravenclaw or Gryffindor, although I cannot think of anything particularly connected with the latter besides the sword, and that is obviously not one. Did Potter or Weasely give you any indication of what they expected to find in the Lestrange vault?"

"No, they said the goblin only told them that there was something there. He said nothing about what it might actually be, although I did tell them that I thought one of the remaining horcruxes was likely to be Hufflepuff's cup."

"It would be best if it was not the cup they found." The girl frowned at her, not understanding. "If they find a different artefact in the vault, then at least we know what we are still looking for, if not where to find it. I also agree with you and Potter that it is likely to be somewhere here at Hogwarts, if Albus is correct about Riddle's compulsion to hide them in places that have some significance to him. I will think further on that also, and find some way to get a message to you if I come up with anything."

Minerva looked at the piece of parchment with the list of horcruxes that the girl was clutching in her hands. "You are sure there are no further clues on there?" The girl hadn't let her read or even look at the list herself, insisting on reading it out loud to her instead.

"No, Professor." The girl's hand tightened on the parchment. "There's nothing more than what I read to you already."

"Will you read it out in full once more, please?"

"Of course." The girl's voice was strangely tight as she began to read again. She was obviously hiding something, and Minerva wasn't sure how far she should push. It may be something she was not supposed to know. "One, Riddle's diary, destroyed by Harry. Two, the ring, destroyed by Professor Dumbledore. Three, Slytherin's locket, destroyed by Ron. Four, possibly Hufflepuff's cup, not found. Five, something possible belonging to Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Six, the snake. And…." She paused for a second, swallowing hard. "And the seventh piece is in You-Know-Who."

Hermione looked up from the parchment and met Minerva's gaze squarely, but she could see a flicker of something in the girl's eyes. _What else is on that page?_ She debated whether to force the girl to tell her for another moment, before deciding to let it go. Most likely there was a good reason for the girl to withhold whatever it was.

Minerva nodded. "Very well, Miss Granger. I will let you know what I come up with. Now…" She leaned forward slightly. "I'd like to hear more about what you and Severus have been doing since he brought you back to Hogwarts."

* * *

Snape was aware he had barely turned the page twice since Minerva and the girl had sat down to talk over an hour ago. It wasn't that he'd actually been watching them. He'd kept his eyes on the book in front of him, but still had been aware of every movement the girl made at the edges of his vision. He'd seen the worried look on her face when she'd first sat down across from Minerva, and from the way the girl had glanced at him, he'd assumed for a moment that she was being grilled about how he had been treating her.

Instead, they'd spent some time obviously going through whatever the girl had been researching, but neither had touched a book or parchment for some time now. He could tell from the way she was shifting continually in her chair that the girl was uncomfortable with whatever the two of them were discussing.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the girl turn towards him again, then back to Minerva before she continued speaking. Jealousy flared as the older woman reached across to pat her reassuringly. _Mine… don't touch_! Irritation at himself pushed away the first emotion. It wasn't as if the girl belonged to him, and even if she did, who was he to say she wasn't allowed to interact with anyone else. _You've just got used to having her to yourself, that's all._ He wondered what the girl was telling Minerva. _Maybe she's telling her how you raped her, or maybe she's explaining how you Crucio'd her repeatedly._ He could only pray that if she did that Minerva would understand why it had been necessary. _Or maybe she'll be coming for your blood any minute._

He didn't want to stop the girl taking Minerva into her confidence if she wanted to, although his own need for privacy, as well as his sense of self-preservation made him hope that she would stay silent on the subject, or at least be careful in what she said. He was sure Minerva would press the girl to tell her everything. He'd noticed the inquisitive glances she had been casting between the two of them, although she'd had the grace to stay back out of the way when the girl had woken up. His stomach clenched once more at the memory of the way she had been knocked into the cupboard, the blood on his fingers as he held her afterwards, the way she had justified throwing herself in front of a spell meant for him.

Snape still wasn't sure of the wisdom of allowing Minerva to know his true allegiance. All it would take was an erroneous look or reaction in front of the wrong person and he could find himself summoned in front of the Dark Lord to explain. The Carrows would love to find a way to rid themselves of his presence in order to run the school the way they wished to. Was she truly up to the task, or should he Obliviate her, promise or not?

* * *

Hermione swallowed and looked away from the all too knowing eyes of her former Head of House. She'd given her the PG version of the weeks she had spent locked away with Snape, glossing over the repeated curses he had cast on her, the mind games, and most definitely the sex, forced or not.

She could see from the suspicious expression on Professor McGonagall's face that she knew Hermione was holding back. But how could she tell her? How was she supposed to explain how she now yearned for the touch of the man who had raped and cursed her, never mind that he'd not wanted to do so in the first place? Could she understand that he'd only done what needed to be done, or would she hit the ceiling when she heard what had happened?

"Hermione," McGonagall said, using her name for the first time that day. _Uh oh, here it comes._ "I know there is more to this that you are not telling me. You think I would believe that you have made it through a month in these chambers, as well as several meetings with Riddle, without getting a scratch on you? Do you think I don't know how that monster and his followers treat those they capture or kill, particularly muggle-borns. I can't imagine that Riddle would not have expected Severus to treat you in a similar way. What has he been forced to do to you, to keep his cover intact?"

McGonagall looked at Hermione so directly as she finished that she was forced to look away, her natural instinct to answer her teacher's question at odds with her desire to keep what had happened between herself and Snape private. Or _would it be better for me to share this with someone who might understand? It would be nice to have someone to talk to about everything that has happened._

While she hesitated, McGonagall continued, her voice softer now. "When you were unconscious, Severus, he… I don't think I've seen him more concerned about anyone in all the time I've known him. Whatever has happened between the two of you, I doubt it has the capacity to shock me. I've seen and heard things that would surprise you, and it wouldn't be the first time…"

Inexplicably Hermione's eyes began to fill with tears, and she had to blink hard to keep them at bay. McGonagall watched her sympathetically. Could she tell her? It might be good for her to get it all of her chest. She'd wished for someone to talk to many times over the last month. Maybe here was her chance. _What should I do?_

McGonagall maybe interpreted her hesitancy and downcast eyes as a sign something was wrong. Her face tightened and she leaned towards her. "Hermione…" She spoke gently. "If he's hurt you, you can tell me. I promise I won't do or say anything if you don't wish me to. I know this is a difficult situation, and he has a cover to maintain, but I want you to know you are not alone. Are you protecting him because of the job he must perform for Albus?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, no really. I mean yes, I know he needs to, but that's not why... I…" She trailed off uncertainly, peeking up at McGonagall from behind dark lashes. "I don't know… how…"

McGonagall smiled reassuringly at her. "Just start from the beginning. Tell me as much or as little as you wish."

"And you won't get angry with… with _him_?" More than anything, she felt the need to keep him safe from the woman's wrath, but she longed for the relief she was sure she would feel at getting it all off her chest. She turned to look at Snape, who was sitting motionless behind his desk, eyes fixed on the pages in front of him.

McGonagall reached forward and patted her encouragingly on the hands that were twisting nervously in her lap.

"I won't say a thing to him unless you tell me I can."

"I don't think I want him to know I've told you, not yet at least."

* * *

It had been hard at first to listen to, and she guessed, infinitely harder for the girl in front of her to talk about. It had taken every shred of self-control she possessed not to fly into a rage as the girl had started speaking. Now, as the girl fell silent, she was glad she had heard her out and kept her promise to remain silent.

The first half of what the girl had just told her had made her blood boil, regardless of Hermione's assurances that there had been no other way. Despite her believing the worst of the dark wizard not two hours before, the thought that he had tortured and forced himself on the innocent girl sitting before her had sickened and disgusted her. Had he really had to go so far to prove his loyalty to Riddle?

The girl had spoken of the events following her incarceration in Severus' rooms quietly and with little emotion. Minerva had found it difficult to understand her calm acceptance of what he had done to her, until she'd heard the details of the calming draught she had been drinking every evening. It had obviously stopped the girl from reacting too badly to the way she'd been treated. Minerva was well aware that the girl was only giving her the bare facts of it all, that she was withholding not only her emotions, but also the details of each encounter. If the girl made it through the upcoming battle, she would likely need counselling.

Minerva had heard how Hermione had fought back at first, forcing Snape to punish her since the Dark Lord would be watching. Her mind reeled at the amount of times he had used the Cruciatus on her. She couldn't imagine the amount of courage it took for the girl to allow Snape to obliviate her time and time again, each time knowing she would likely be facing such torture. Hermione had spoken of how Snape had raped her, and manipulated her, although it was here that Minerva was convinced that a lot of the details had been left out. What was sure, however, was the girl's belief that Snape abhorred the way he had been forced to treat her.

The second half of the story had been slightly easier to hear. Hermione had explained how, while she was in possession of her memories, she had collaborated with Snape to stop herself from fighting him, and how her own manipulations had made things easier for them both. She had spoken of how Snape had convinced Riddle that the use of the Cruciatus curse was only damaging her memory further, how so many of his actions, although they had seemed cruel at the time, had only been to protect her further. She had helped Snape to coax a promised of obedience out of her, and had been rewarded with books and knowledge. Minerva had to hide a smile at that. No matter what happened, the girl's thirst for learning never seemed to diminish.

What the girl hadn't mentioned was the subject Minerva was most curious about. The easy and intimate manner the two had didn't seem to fit with the story the girl had presented. Somehow, despite what Severus had done to her, the two had made some sort of connection.

The girl obviously harboured feelings for him, but whether they were solely based on the manipulative way Severus had convinced the obliviated girl to accept his attentions, or whether they were something more, she didn't know. That Hermione had left out so much made it hard to understand. She had spoken almost nothing of how she had felt about the whole ordeal, or of how Snape had treated her when she was in possession of her memories. Maybe it was time to push and see whether the girl would open up any more.

She looked at the girl sitting across from her, shifting nervously in her chair as she waiting for Minerva to speak. She was going to have to be careful about how she approached the subject.

 


	37. Chapter 37

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Most of the questions she'd had for him had already been answered by the girl. Severus had obviously been expecting an interrogation over how he had been treating Hermione, and she knew him well enough to read the faint expression of confusion when he had neither been subjected to intense questioning nor had to face her wrath over what he had been forced to do to the girl in his care. Snape seemed eager to end the conversation before she got round to berating him over it.

"If that is everything, Minerva?" Snape stood up out of the chair he had occupied opposite her for only a fraction of the time she had spent talking to Hermione. They had discussed a few things, including what he knew of the Riddle's plans, although she'd had to promise again not to reveal the information to the Order, at least without his permission.

She had been worried to hear that Riddle believed the time was coming soon for him to face and defeat Harry. After hearing from the girl about the horcruxes she knew that Potter was not yet ready. There were three more to go, not including Riddle himself, and depending on what was found in the Lestrange vault, they had very little clue as to the appearance and location of one.

They had also talked about ways in which to reduce the amount of students caught and tortured by the Carrows, and Snape had asked her to try and persuade her Gryffindors to back down. If the final conflict was indeed coming soon they would need to avoid injury in order to be fit and ready to fight, or in the case of the younger years, to run.

Albus' plans had also been discussed, although Snape had had little more to add than had already been spoken about. He was holding something back, though, Minerva could tell, and she wondered if he could sense the same from her. Hermione and Albus had been adamant that he not know about the horcruxes, and although she thought it an unnecessary precaution, she felt obliged to follow both their wishes in the matter.

Before settling down with Snape in the two armchairs, she had spoken to the portrait of Albus, again erecting a silencing charm before questions him on how much he knew about what was happening between Snape and Hermione. She had been surprised to hear just how much he knew and approved of, and she had argued with him over what he perceived Snape's true feelings towards the girl were.

She'd been watching the two of them covertly while she spoke to Albus. They'd been sat on opposite sides of the desk, and while the girl was continually sneaking glances at him, he had yet to look at her, his mouth tight with displeasure, though because of what, Minerva had not been sure. His lack of interest seemed to be upsetting the girl, for at one point she'd tried to engage him in conversation, and he had only given her a short answer, not even looking up from his book. As she had slumped back in her chair, she'd ducked her head, pretending to be absorbed by the parchment in her hands, but Minerva had caught the hurt look on her face.

Albus had tried to insist that Snape returned the girl's feelings, but Minerva wasn't convinced. Albus put far too much faith in love, whereas she had always had a more practical approach to things. Even if Snape did feel something for the girl, his own nature would make it hard for him to accept any connection. Hermione would likely end up hurt, whatever his feelings were. Minerva was determined to say something to Snape before he let the girl suffer too much.

That Hermione had so clearly been willing to continue the deception they were practising, as well as the way she had forgiven him for everything spoke volumes, and therefore Minerva felt little need to chastise Severus. The girl believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was all necessary, and Albus had told Minerva that nothing she could say to him could possibly make him feel any more remorse than he already did. Hermione's attachment to Snape, however, she did find concerning.

Hermione had all but admitted her infatuation with him when Minerva had pressed her. Her problem with the situation was that from what she had described, it was clear that Snape had, with her consent, been manipulating her emotions from the beginning. Minerva wasn't sure if the girl honestly knew her own feelings, or whether she'd fallen into the trap she'd help Snape set for herself.

She wished she could be sure of what Snape felt for the girl. Minerva could see he cared for her, but she had figured out many years ago that, despite all evidence to the contrary, he did have a heart. Did he return her affections, or was it just that he felt particular responsibility for the girl. That plus the guilt she was sure he carried over what he was doing to her might be the reason for the tender way she had seen him attend to Hermione when she had been injured. She needed to find out before she left the girl alone in his care once again.

"There is one more thing to discuss, Severus." Minerva stood also, facing Severus squarely. He seemed to know what was coming, for his face was suddenly devoid of any expression except a weary resignation.

She decided to approach the subject from an angle he was not expecting, hoping to catch him off guard. "What will you do now, Severus? What will happen to her? You have made sure she will be safe if anything happens to you?

"She will be safe in here. No one will be able to get into these rooms. Even the Dark Lord would have difficulty getting past the wards without me to let him through. She will be given instructions on what to do if something happens to me. I will not allow anything to harm her if I can help it."

"And what plans do you have for her between now and the battle that Riddle believes will happen soon. Miss Granger mentioned that she had just got her wand back. Will she be studying or continuing to act as your housekeeper?"

"The Dark Lord has decided that she may assist me with any brewing. He also wishes for me to instruct her in the Dark Arts, hoping to seduce her to his cause. He knows that she is still… unwilling to support him, despite being willing to swear herself to me. He returned her wand so that she would be able to practise whatever I choose to teach her. She is lucky to have pleased him so much, or she would not have got it back.

"Pleased him? What do you mean?

"He has decided that she has proven herself worthy of survival, despite her muggle blood. If he is victorious, she will belong to me, and will be allowed to continue using magic. We would be… expected to produce offspring, who would be brought up to serve him. The Dark Lord believes that our children would be powerful. He has seen for himself her strength and ability, and she has him convinced that she is so enamoured of me she will do whatever I ask of her."

Minerva's mouth fell open in horror as he spoke. Forced to produce children who would be brought up in such a way… At least Hermione would be safe if Riddle won, but at such a cost. Would she be able to live with herself?

"That is precisely what I am worried about, Severus. I believe that at this moment, Miss Granger would do anything you asked of her. She is in a very vulnerable position right now. She does not need for you to manipulate her emotions more than you already have. If she survives the upcoming fight, she may find it hard to readjust, considering all she has gone through in the last month. She is under your care, and you have a responsibility to make sure she comes out of this as unscathed as possible."

"I can assure you, I am protecting the girl as best as I can."

"You know what I mean, Severus. For some reason, she has formed some sort of attachment to you, beyond what the two of you planned as a way to deceive Riddle.

Snape's face was devoid of expression as he relied. "I am aware of that."

"And do you believe her affection to be genuine?"

"I… I am… I believe the situation has affected my judgement somewhat as well, but I think it… unlikely that Miss Granger would be capable of such feelings towards myself if not for the current situation."

"And what about you, Severus. Do you return her feelings, such as they are?"

Snape fell silent, glowering at her, obviously refusing to give her an answer. That was telling in itself. If the answer had been no, he would have said as much. Minerva knew what she was about to say was harsh, but she had to do what she felt was right for the girl, and she didn't believe that was a relationship with Snape.

"And if her feelings are real, what will you do? Remember your position, Severus. If you survive this, and manage to avoid Azkaban, you will forever be known as the man who killed Albus Dumbledore. Will you be able to give her the life she deserves? Miss Granger has far too much potential to be weighed down by the scandal you will bring."

"You would wish for me to cut ties with the girl? Despite whatever she… or I might feel?

There it was. He had as good as declared how he felt for her. For a moment Minerva felt bad about trying to persuade him to ignore his feelings. It was for the best though. Hermione had a bright future ahead of her, and she would only be held back by an association with Snape.

"I want you to make the right decision, for the both of you. I am not convinced she is capable of doing so for herself right now. I know you must continue in close quarters for now, but Severus, try not to hurt her more than necessary. It will be hard enough for her as it is.

He stood silently for a moment, before nodding sombrely at her. His face was now an icy mask.

"Is that all?"

She replied in the affirmative. He then flicked his wand, dispelling the silencing charm around them both. "If you are ready then, Minerva?"

She stepped across to where Hermione was sat, a book propped open in her lap, before laying a hand on the girl's shoulder. She smiled up at her tremulously. "I don't know when we will get another chance to talk. I will find a way to pass along anything I find through Severus." She paused for a moment, her fingers tightening slightly as she searched for the right words. _What do you say in this situation, and to someone who in a few hours will not even remember speaking to you?_

Hermione must have understood her hesitation, for she spoke instead. "It's ok, Professor. I'll be fine." Her manner and expression was confident, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes that Minerva understood. _Snape… he better do the right thing with her._

Minerva gave her shoulder one last squeeze, before turning quickly. She nodded to Snape, who had stepped up beside her to grab the time-turner off the desk. He gestured for her to proceed out of the door before him before turning back to face Hermione.

"I will be back in a few minutes, Miss Granger."

Minerva saw him glance quickly at the clock before they both made their way out of the room, shutting the door behind them.

* * *

It was barely five minutes later when the door opened again and Snape slipped back in. Hermione looked up at his entrance and smiled shyly at him. She could see the triumphant gleam in his eye that told her something had gone well in the two hours he had gone back.

"What happened?"

"Let's just say the Dark Lord was not overly impressed with the Carrows for discussing such things in public. We were lucky that Minerva came straight here to accuse me instead of discussing it first with the other professors. The Dark Lord is well aware that his three… loyal… Death-Eaters here are outnumbered by the other staff in the castle. They might be unwilling to resort to the measure that would be expected of myself and the Carrows, but they are strong and skilful enough without using the Dark Arts that should it come down to a fight, the three of us would very likely lose."

"But if the other professors could beat you that easily then why…?"

"Why do they let us continue to run the school as we do? If we lost control of the school the Dark Lord would waste no time in reclaiming it. Strategically it is almost as important as the Ministry. And if that were to happen not only would the students be in immediate danger, but as soon as he had taken it back from the Order the teaching staff would be filled with Death-Eaters, and there would be no one left to protect the children."

Snape sunk down into the chair behind the desk, pulling the time turner out from a pocket within his robes and placing it back in the drawer. "Minerva is right to bide her time. I am… relieved that she has chosen to do so, and not just for the student's sake."

He closed his eyes and leant back in his chair. Hermione studied his face for a moment. He looked weary, but then he had already added an extra two hours more to the day than she had.

"What do you mean? Relieved how?"

He opened his eyes slowly, staring beyond her, looking thoughtful as he spoke. "I doubt you've seen Minerva do little more than what she demonstrates in class. I remember the first time I saw her duel. It was during the Dark Lord's first rise to power." He seemed to have forgotten her, he was so wrapped up in his memory. "It was one of the first raids I had been sent on, and the Order had somehow anticipated the attack. But there were 5 of us and only three of them. We underestimated her. She was… remarkable. So strong that of the three of us fighting her, I was the only one to escape."

Hermione smiled at the image of her dignified old Head of House fighting and trouncing three Death-Eaters by herself.

"Even now, I still would be hard pressed to beat her. I hope never to be in a position where I am forced to duel with her again. This year… the possibility of doing so was high, and it would put me in an impossible situation. Run, and give her the school, only for the Dark Lord to destroy anyone, student or teacher, who stopped him from taking it back, or fight back and…"

He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "She never knew it was me that night, I never told her."

His eyes flicked across to her, and his face which for a few moments had been soft and open, hardened again, and she could almost see the walls going back up in his mind. _How does he do that? Go from one extreme to another so quickly? Is he ever going to let me in?_

"I believe it's time for dinner." Snape stood, his demeanour cold and distant.

_Maybe he just doesn't want to…_

  


* * *

She knew something was wrong. He had barely looked at her since before supper a few hours ago, and not spoken to her at all. Their impassioned argument earlier that afternoon and the later tender apology now seemed like they had happened days ago. Had Minerva said something to him? Had she told him what Hermione had admitted concerning their relationship? Maybe he was furious with her for disclosing something so personal that concerned him.

Hermione was still seated in the chair before the desk. Snape had remained in his until about an hour past, when he'd suddenly pushed his chair back, the unexpected noise almost causing Hermione to drop the book in her lap, and risen to his feet. He'd begun pacing across the lower part of the room and hadn't stopped since.

She'd found it hard to concentrate since, instead straining to make out the barely audible mutterings of the dark wizard behind her. Sighting quietly she put down her book and reached for another one, Fa _mous Witches throughout History_. She needed to find more on Rowena Ravenclaw, but there was little about any of the founders that she could find that wasn't covered in _Hogwarts, A History._

McGonagall hadn't been able to think of any significant item belonging to Gryffindor, besides the sword, and they already knew that wasn't a horcrux. Hermione went over her list again, thinking not only about the horcruxes themselves, but the places Voldemort had left them. Dumbledore had mentioned he had chosen many of the items or locations because of some particular event or connection to them; the cave where he had scared and hurt two of the orphanage children using magic, the ring he had taken from Morfin Gaunt before framing him for the murder of his father and which he had later left hidden in the Gaunt house.

Instinctively Hermione felt there should be something here at Hogwarts. Surely the place where he had begun his magical life, where he had learnt what he was capable of, must have a strong hold on him. What could she remember about his time there? The basilisk was the first thing to mind. Voldemort had killed a muggle girl… that would definitely count as a triumph for him, especially since he'd managed to lay the blame at Hagrid's feet.

Was it possible the basilisk had been one? She knew that making a horcrux out of an animal was dangerous as it was difficult to control, which is why she assumed he kept Nagini with him all the time. Would he have been willing to risk leaving the basilisk alone by itself for so long? She wasn't sure, but she pulled a piece of parchment across the table and noted it down. What else?

She couldn't really remember much else about his time at Hogwarts, apart from what she'd seen in the pensieve when Harry had told them about his 'lessons' with Dumbledore, and there was nothing of use. She leaned back in her chair, tapping the quill on her lips as she tried to think back about what Harry had described seeing in the diary back in their second year. He'd mentioned how worried Riddle had seemed when Hogwarts was threatened with closure… that just made her feel more sure there was a horcrux hidden here. He'd blamed Hagrid to keep the school open, and been given a special award into the bargain. _The special award…where is that? Is that still in the trophy room here? Could that be it?_ It seemed more likely that the basilisk in any case.

McGonagall would be able to get to it. Hermione jotted it down on the parchment. Was there a way to test things to see if they were horcruxes? Hopefully McGonagall or maybe Professor Flitwick might know. Was there anything else at Hogwarts that Voldemort may have seen as particularly special? Even if there was no way to tell, all the possibilities could be gathered up and Harry could look to see if any were what they were looking for. He seemed to be able to tell, the thought of which only served to heighten her worry over his name on the list she'd found earlier.

She couldn't think of any other possibilities. The castle was enormous, and filled with so many magical items, and hidden rooms. She could have walked past a horcrux a thousand times and not have realised. There were more things hidden in the Room of Requirement than they could ever hope to search through in a life time, and who knew what other secret rooms could be hiding one? _Gods, what if it_ is _in there? It could be anything! And where better to hide something you don't want found?_

She scribbled a note to McGonagall under the other two items. If there was a way to locate items imbued with dark magic then maybe they might find something, although in a room that size there were bound to be more than a few unsavoury items.

The muttering from behind her broke her train of thought once again, and she whirled round to look at Snape, irritated with him for disturbing her when she seemed to be on a roll. He was still pacing, but slowed to look up at her before coming to a halt. Hermione's breath hitched as she met his eyes, which were darker than normal with some strong emotion, and heat flooded her body. But the expression on his face was gone so quickly she could have almost imagined it. _Maybe I did_ , she sighed. _Maybe I was wrong._

* * *

Snape had always been one for pacing when he was stressed or trying to think. He found the rhythmic beat of his feet on the stone floors soothing. He had too much to worry over right at that moment, and needed to get rid of some of his nervous energy. No matter what Minerva had said, there was always more of a risk when more people knew a secret. That's why Albus had insisted on no one knowing in the first place. Snape couldn't afford to get caught. Not just because of his own likely death, but because of the promises he'd made to himself and Albus concerning avenging Lily's death and protecting Potter.

He'd known for years the risks associated with his spying act, but to get so far and die without knowing Lily would be avenged had always seemed far worse than death itself. But now, something had changed. It was the girl's fault. He'd never been afraid of doing what was needed. He had given up his life many years ago, but now she begun to bring his thirst for living back.

_Stupid old man_ , he sneered at himself _. She may tell you she wants you now, but what will happen once she is free again. Minerva is right. Even if she doesn't come to her senses and leave me, I would only hold her back. She has all her life ahead of her, a bright future, whereas I will be a tired old ex-death-eater, lucky not to be thrown into Azkaban. What could I offer her?_ At least Minerva knowing the truth of his loyalties put him in a better position to be absolved of Dumbledore's murder. If she survives what is coming. And not that I really expect to either.

But what about the girl? He needed to make sure she would be safe in any confrontation. The best thing was to follow the Dark Lord's command and teach her as much as possible about the Dark Arts. Maybe he could slip in enough defence along with the more offensive spells. He would make her practise against himself, and she would need to be able to defend herself in a duel. That would be excuse enough if the Dark Lord went prying. The girl was his after all, and he was always careful with his possessions.

He realised suddenly that he had stopped pacing, and was now staring at the back of the girl's bushy head, as she scribbled something down on a piece of paper. _Mine…_ "No!" he growled under his breath, beginning to pace again. "Not mine. Stop wishing for something you will never have. Look what happened the last time you did. Twenty years later and you're still paying the price. Remember Lily… finish what you started for her sake."

But his mind wandered straight back to the girl, and he looked back up to find her watching him now, a frown on her face. _Did she hear me?_ His feet slowed and then stopped. As he watched her frown disappeared and was replaced with an almost hungry look. Snape realised suddenly a similar one was covering his own features, and he quickly schooled his face back into a neutral expression. _I've got to stop looking at her like that if she is to think I'm not interested…_

To cover his lapse, he glanced at the clock, although he already knew it was late. He was particularly tired, having added two hours to the day, and after such an early start. Now for the next problem… sleeping arrangements. He just knew the girl was going to cause a fuss over him sleeping in a chair, but he couldn't face the thought of lying in a bed next to her right now. The temptation was too great, and he had to resist it, especially when he didn't have to perform for the Dark Lord to see.


	38. Chapter 38

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

He'd been right, she hadn't liked the thought of him sleeping in his chair, and had tried to insist on him sharing the bed with her, since there wasn't room enough in his study for a second bed. When he'd refused again she'd reminded him that it wouldn't be the first time they'd slept together, and he'd been unable to stop his eyes from travelling all over her body at the remembrance. She'd blushed under his scrutiny and stammered her continuing arguments again the chair.

He'd won, although the whole of the next day he'd cursed himself for not giving in. Despite the fact that he had transfigured his chair to be wider and softer, he'd ended up with a sore neck and back from the uncomfortable position he'd slept in. How he was going to get through another night he wasn't sure. He knew the girl would argue with him over it again, and his body screamed out for a comfortable night's sleep.

Now, Snape was striding quickly down the empty hall, his footsteps echoing eerily in the silence as they made their way back to his study. The disillusioned girl besides him made no noise, a charm stifling the whisper of her soft shoes on the stone floors. It was suppertime. All the students and teachers would be in the main hall still, and she had somehow convinced him to accompany her to the main library. _Fool idea, why did I agree to this?_

_Because she begged you to…_ He pushed the though away, trying to listen out for anyone coming, although really there was no chance of coming across anyone in the halls for another few minutes. Meal times were strictly disciplined, all students having to report at the same time and eating in silence, so different from previous years.

He'd wanted the walk too, needing to stretch his legs a bit in the hope of working out some of the kinks. In actual fact he'd ended up stiffer than before from the tension of holding himself ready in case someone should come by and see the two of them in the library. Hopefully the girl had found what she needed, for she would not me making another trip. The danger of letting her wander the corridors was just too great.

He turned the corner into the hall that led to his office, to find himself face to face with Alecto Carrow, her equally vile brother behind her. _Shit! What are they doing in this corridor?_ He had an inkling of an idea, but it didn't bode well, if he was correct. He managed to keep the panic off his face as Alecto stepped into the space the girl had been occupying next to him.

"Has dinner finished already?" he asked with a sneer. He felt the girl move behind him silently. The twins hadn't seemed to notice anything. _Good girl, now stay there and don't move._

"There was a problem in the kitchens, dinner has been delayed," Alecto snarled back insolently.

How Snape wished he could get rid of her. She was by far the worse of the two, and Amycus was bad enough. She had to be one of the ugliest women he'd ever laid eyes upon, both inside and out.

"And the students?"

"Locked in their houses for now." Amycus spoke, stepping forward and giving his sister a warning glace. He had always been the more level-headed of the two, although that wasn't saying much. "We came up to inform you."

"What exactly happened in the kitchens?"

"There was a rainstorm that destroyed all the food just before it was ready to be sent up. It appears to be one of those Weasley products that was to blame, although we cannot tell exactly which miserable student set it up. Those stupid creatures saw nothing. They were far too busy wailing and hurting themselves to notice anything. McGonagall is probably still down there, calming the dimwits down enough to prepare more."

Snape seriously doubted any of the students had done such a thing. It was far more likely the twins had done it themselves. He had a horrible feeling they had found some way to know when he left his rooms, and had caused the diversion to try and get in to his rooms at a time he would expect everyone to be in the Great Hall.

"You will find out who did it and bring them to me for punishment." Alecto opened her mouth to speak but he quickly continued. "You will bring me proof… not one of your half made-up stories. And you will not lay a finger on them. The Dark Lord does not wish any more of our students to disappear because their families are… dissatisfied with the way this school is run. He knows who to blame if they do, and I'm sure you do not wish to find him more… displeased with you than he is already."

Alecto growled warningly at the reminder, but Snape just smirked at her, knowing they both been Crucio'd for speaking so freely where they could be overheard. The subject matter itself may not have been particularly important to keep secret, although it would have caused him more than a few problems had it got out, but the Dark Lord didn't like his affairs discussed where they might be overheard.

"You won't always have the Dark Lord's protection. One day, Snape, he will see you for the traitorous bastard you really are, and when you're on your knees begging for mercy I pray I will be there to see it," she hissed.

"I don't see him here now to protect me," he taunted. "And yet the two of you are still afraid to test me. Or would you like to try now?" He spoke confidently, unwilling to let the bitch feel she'd gained anything by her words, and sure that he could take the both of them. They were strong and nasty enough to cow the students, or when they were up against opponents unwilling or unable to utilise the Dark Arts, but despite his irritation with silly wand-waving Snape was far superior to them in both knowledge and ability. Plus the girl was there, and the two of them would find it easy to overpower the twins.

Snape felt the girl touch his arm gently, indicating that she'd moved up beside him in case the Carrows did decide to attack. He looked carefully at one, then the other. Neither of them seemed willing to take him up on his offer, though hatred blazed clearly in both faces.

"I didn't think so," he jeered, turning quickly. He swept past Alecto's scowling, pig-like face towards his office, eager to get the girl back into the safety of his rooms. He was halfway down the hall before his sixth sense tingled. Turning quickly he pulled out his wand from his sleeve, raising his arm. The hex streaking towards him suddenly ricochet off a shield charm a few feet from his face. It wasn't his.

Alecto had obviously realised he hadn't cast the charm either. "The mudblood…" she hissed from down the corridor. She took a step forward. With a quick look at Snape's face and ready stance with his wand, Amycus grabbed her arm and pulled her away round the corner. After a few seconds Snape relaxed slightly, still watching carefully in case they tried anything else. He felt the girl's hand slip into his, and he let it stay there. With one last glance down the hall he turned, tugging on her arm. "Come on."

* * *

He could tell the ward on his study had been tampered with, although not broken.

"What's the matter?" he heard the girl whisper beside him.

"They tried to get in. Not that they even came close. Brute strength won't get through my wards, or the castle's own protection, and those two certainly don't have the finesse or the knowledge required to get through."

"What did they want?" she replied as they walked into his study, shutting the door behind them. The disillusionment charm fell away.

"I can only guess," he said quietly, looking down at her, his eyes telling her what he did not want to say.

"Oh," she said, looking down to where their hands were still joined as realisation dawned. "They want me? But why?" She looked back up at him, seeking reassurance with her eyes.

Quickly Snape pulled his hand out of hers, turning away and trying to forget the feel of her soft, warm skin against his. He had no comfort to give her. "Most likely they wish to get to me. They would love to find some proof that the Dark Lord's trust in me is misplaced, although Alecto probably just wishes to get rid of you. She hates muggles and muggle-borns with a passion almost as strong as Bellatrix's." He heard the girl's sharp intake of breath at the name and the rustle of cloth as she raised her fingers to the scars on her arm.

"They were both present for your… display, the night you cursed Lucius," he continued. "And there is a good chance they know you have been bound to protect me and that you have your wand back. You are powerful in your own right and only make my position more unassailable. I don't doubt they would kill you if the opportunity presented itself."

"I don't understand. Aren't you supposed to be working together? Won't You-Know-Who be angry if they kill me? He's expecting me to being Harry to him."

"Perhaps they do not know that detail. In any case, they would either try to place the blame on me or just trust that the Dark Lord holds them in higher esteem because they are pure-bloods and you only a mud… muggle-born. And Death-Eaters do not work together, they fight for power and position constantly. The Dark Lord has always encouraged such behaviour, as long as it doesn't interfere with his plans. With me out of the way the Carrows have control over the school, and if they managed to find evidence I am unfaithful to the Dark Lord they would move up the ranks very quickly."

"That's a horrible way to live, not even being able to trust the people on your side. I couldn't imagine living like that." She wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered.

Snape had no reply to give her. It was just the way things were. "You had better get reading. We need to be up early to use the time-turner."

"Why can't we just do it later this evening?"

"Firstly you need to get a good night's sleep, as we will be returning to yesterday morning, and it will be a long, tiring day for you. Also, it will be easier for us to return exactly two days rather than go 40 hours back."

"Easier? How?"

"No more questions, you will see tomorrow." He walked around his desk and sat down heavily, a growing pressure behind his eyes indicating the onset of a full-blown headache. He pulled a drawer open and rooted around in it for a pain-relief potion. _Damn!_ There were none left, and he couldn't get into his lab until the morning. He rubbed his temples tiredly.

The girl followed him to the desk and sat down opposite, curling up into the enlarged and cushioned armchair she had transfigured after getting fed up of the hard wooden chair that had been there before. She eyed him as he massaged his head, but wisely said nothing, instead pulling a set of shrunken books out of her pocket and enlarging them with a wave of the wand. She opened the top one and began to read.

 

* * *

 

Snape woke to find his face pressed into the girl's hair, her body tight spooned tight against his, and his growing erection hot between them. They had managed to roll together in the centre of the bed, despite his best intentions. _Shit! Please be asleep still…_ Carefully he lifted his arm from around her waist and pulled back. The girl grumbled with the loss of heat and wriggled slightly. It seemed like he was in luck. He would have found it hard to convince her of his indifference if she'd been aware of the way he'd been rubbing himself against her arse as he'd emerged from sleep.

He shifted backward, trying to put some space between them. She fell silent and motionless again. Snape twisted his neck, trying to see the time on the clock behind him. 3.50am. They didn't need to be up for another two hours. He rolled slowly onto his back and lay there quietly, trying to think of anything to take his mind off the warm body he'd been holding in his arms until a few moments ago.

This was precisely why he'd been so unwilling to share the bed with her. He'd tried once again to refuse her entreaties, but she hadn't backed down and he'd been unable to deny her in the end. She was almost as stubborn as him, but if it wasn't for the ache he could still feel and the thought of the work they would be doing the next day he would have insisted on taking the chair once again. His traitorous body had warmed at the thought of sharing a bed with her, but he'd done his best to ignore the way his cock had twitched, and sworn inwardly to keep to his side of the bed.

He'd let her use the small bathroom off the study first, and then taken his own time getting ready, hoping for the girl to be in bed as asleep already. Upon re-entering the room he thought his wish had been granted, for she was lying motionless on the far side, her back to him. But as he had lifted the cover and slid in she had rolled over to face him, her brown eyes studying him intently. He had held her gaze for a few moments, but the moment she had reached out her hand to his face he had pulled away and rolled over, putting his back to her.

He'd known what she had wanted. The conversation the day before had not been resolved to her satisfaction, and up until that moment she still hadn't understood that she wasn't going to get what she wanted from him. The slight shaking of the mattress from her uneven breathing and the muffled sniffs from behind had told him that maybe she had finally realised. He had tried his hardest to ignore her covert sobs, hating himself for being the cause of them, and it was only after the girl had stilled and her breathing slowed that he was able to fall asleep himself.

The disgust he now felt at himself for causing the girl yet more pain on top of everything she had been through in the past month had finally killed his erection. He sighed quietly in relief and rolled over towards the girl again, meaning to scoot backwards and put as much distance between them as possible. As he moved, so did the girl, turning to face him also, her eyes open. They lay silently, looking at each other. There were dark circles under her eyes and something in their expression seemed to be pleading with him, but he was unrelenting.

After a moment or two she turned her face away slightly, closing her eyes. "Is it time? she whispered hoarsely.

"Not yet. Go back to sleep. I will wake you in a few hours," he replied.

She looked at him once more, before rolling away. Snape lay still, trying to sleep again, but he was haunted by the hollow look the girl had just given him. She seemed defeated somehow. Another wave of guilt swept through him, making his stomach tighten uncomfortably. _It's for the best. I'll only cause her more pain in the long run. I always do. Lily..._

* * *

She drifted back off to sleep eventually, constantly aware of the tightness in her stomach as she dreamt. When she was finally shaken awake a few hours later she was relieved to leave behind the shadowy images that had haunted her all night. She was almost looking forward to being Obliviated, so she could forget his rejection of her.

Hermione quickly climbed out of bed, once more grabbing the plain grey dress she had been wearing. She crossed over to the bathroom, her eyes averted from the figure of Snape who was hovering by the desk, already dressed. She used the bathroom quickly, and changed her clothes, not pausing to glance in the mirror since she could already guess at how awful she looked.

By the time she had exited the bathroom the bed had disappeared, everything back in its normal place. Snape was just reducing her large stack of books and slipping them into his pockets. She ran over to his side before he could do the same to her notes, and pulled a small piece of folded parchment out from near the top of the stack. Looking up for the first time at him that morning, she was surprised at the quickly concealed expression of sadness in his eyes.

She frowned at him for a moment before realising he was beginning to become impatient with her. "I… Would you be able to pass this onto Professor McGonagall, please?" She held out the parchment to him, and he took it, careful not to let his fingers touch hers.

"I will make sure she receives this as soon as it can be arranged," he said indifferently, turning away from her once again and shrinking the rest of the pile before stuffing her notes into another pocket.

Hermione felt her stomach contract again at his cool words. She couldn't fathom why his attitude had changed so much in such a short space of time. He seemed more detached and uncaring to her than he had been at any point since she had returned to Hogwarts as his captive. She turned her back to him and walked down the few steps to the main office floor, trying to regain her composure and take her mind off the sick feeling in her stomach. What had happened to make him behave so?

She recalled the heated argument they'd had two days ago now, the way he had at first allowed her to run her fingers over his face, then how he had tried to frighten and intimidate her with his past. She hadn't accepted his words then, and he had beaten a hasty retreat from her. What was it that Dumbledore had said? That he was used to keeping people at arm's length, and needed someone who could understand what he had been through.

When she had awoken after being hit with McGonagall's spell he had been so gentle, apologising for his harsh words and saying her name so tenderly. She touched the inside of her wrist where he had kissed her. It barely seemed real now, he'd been so cold with her since then. How could he kiss her one moment and ignore her so completely the next.

_"There's… there's someone else, isn't there?"_ She felt cold as her own words from two days previous suddenly swirled around in her head. He'd never answered the question. And now that she thought about it, it wasn't the first time the thought had occurred to her. Dumbledore may think she was a good match for him, but that didn't mean there wasn't someone he didn't know about. He couldn't know everything about the man.

_What about that photo in his bedroom, the first night you were here?_ Her memory self had had a better look at it, but she'd been standing off to one side as the memory played out and hadn't seen more than the frame, as Snape had quickly deposited it in one of the drawers by the bed. Her stomach clenched tightly and once again tears threatened to fall. There was someone else, and Hermione's own feelings for him were completely unrequited. She had obviously misread Snape's concern and guilt over her situation as something more. She loved him, and he would never love her back.

A tap on her shoulder made her start, and she turned around and looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. There was no way he couldn't see that she was upset, but he chose not to comment, his mouth tightening for a moment before he spoke.

"It's time. Are you ready?"

"Oh, I… uh…" She looked wildly round the room, flustered by his closeness. Her eyes fell on te quill sitting in ink on his now bare desk. "I've just thought of something. Let me write it down quickly, and it can go with the rest."

She scrambled over to the desk, relieved to put some distance between them. His masculine smell seemed to linger in her purposefully, mocking her with what she couldn't have. Grabbing a scrap of parchment she scribbled a short message to herself. _S doesn't feel the same way. He has someone else. Don't be a fool!_ She underlined the last word twice, scratching viciously with the quill.

Replacing it back in the pot she folded the parchment over a few times before turning back to Snape. He was watching her with one eyebrow raised questioningly. She gave the parchment to him, and it was put with the rest.

"Now, if you are ready…?"

She nodded her assent, and he stepped closer to her, pulling out the time turner from his top breast pocket.

 

* * *

Snape tensed as he stepped closer to the girl. He could feel his heart pounding harder in his chest as her delicate scent washed over him. His hands shook slightly as he lifted the chain over both of their heads. He looked down at her for a moment, observing carefully how the red around her eyes faded into the dark circles beneath, that were indicative of more than one restless night's sleep.

He could tell by the way she was wriggling her nose that she'd been crying ,or at least trying hard not to. Her face was pale and drawn, and she hadn't been able to look him in the eyes since they'd been in bed together earlier that morning. Snape itched to take her in his arms and soothe her pain, but he knew he couldn't afford to let his resolve crumble.

With an inaudible sight he tore his eyes away from her melancholy face, and pulled out his wand, pointing it at the small hourglass dangling off the chain in his hand.

"Reflecto die," he said, tapping it gently.

The girl looked puzzled. "Die…day? Reflecto? I'm not sure I know that one…"

"Turn, or turn backwards," he replied absently, rotating the hourglass twice.

"I didn't know you could do that," she said with a curious look at the time-turner as the past hours started to roll back around them. Snape smirked instead of voicing the caustic remark that had come so naturally to his lips about little know-it-alls.

The previous two days were now playing out around them in fast re-wind. He watched with interest as again he saw Minerva deep in conversation with him and then Hermione. Time flew back, and suddenly he was leaning over the girl in the bed he had transfigured for her. He felt the girl beside him shift and he looked down to see her eyes averted from the scene.

By the time he looked back up Minerva had disappeared completely, and he got quick glimpses of the girl researching, the argument they'd had, and then the girl began to dip in and out of the pensieve as his past self whizzed around the room, pacing furiously in agitation. Then they were gone, and the reversal of time slowed and paused for a short moment before resuming its normal crawl forward.

The girl breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he unwound the chain from around them and she stepped quickly away from him. As her soft scent receded a sudden urge swept through him, to pull her back, wrap his arms around her and bury his nose in her hair, to smell that delicate fragrance again. He twitched with the effort of holding himself back. How am I going to get through the next few days? I must keep her away until I can control myself. This can't go on!

He realised the girl had moved towards the entrance to his chambers, but noticing his hesitation had turned to wait for him, a small frown on her face. He quickly swept past her, opening the door and entering his chambers quietly.

They made their way along to the kitchen and he ushered her in silence. He waved in the direction of one of the tall stools that sat under the counter.

"Sit there and don't make any noise." Hermione did as told, her eyes fixed to the floor as he paced backwards and forwards across her line of sight. Every few paces he lifted his eyes to the clock. It was almost time. He stopped pacing, moving to stand by the closed door, listening intently. Finally he heard the click of a door closing further down the hall, and footsteps pass by in the direction of the study. The girl shifted slightly on her chair and he whipped his head round to glare at her, making sure she wasn't about to make any noise.

The eyes which had been watching him keenly darted away as he turned to face her, and he quickly returned his attention to what was happening outside the door. Soon there was another click, and he had to strain to hear the soft padding of bare feet down the hall before he heard the study door close with a thud. He waited a few more moments, although he already knew that no one would be returning.

He then turned to the girl behind him. "Let's go. Into my bedroom and get into bed. Make sure you put everything in the same place you left it on Thursday night. I'll be in in a moment."

The girl left without a word, and Snape followed her out, going instead into the library where he pulled out the miniature books and parchment from his pockets and placed it on a shelf in the cupboard. The folded piece that the girl had handed him just before they had travelled back in time sat on the top, in its original size. He touched it carefully, wondering what the girl had thought of last minute while in such a state. But he'd promised not to look at any of her notes, so left it folded and unread.

Before closing and warding the door once again he pulled an empty phial from the top shelf and rolled it around in his fingers thoughtfully for a few moments. Another memory to be extracted from the girl's head. How much longer was this to continue? The length of time it was taking to show the girl her memories was getting longer and longer, and he had no idea what she was looking for during the time she had been researching, let alone if she had found anything of use. He needed the situation to end as soon as possible, to preserve his own sanity, and for the girl's own well-being.

Realising he'd been standing there for a minute or more he left the room, crossing the hallway and entering the bedroom. The girl was waiting for him in bed, a nervous expression on her face. She'd removed her dress and placed it over the chair as she'd left it before, and was lying naked under the covers. As he sat down beside her he tried to avert his eyes from the creamy skin of her shoulders and at the base of her neck that peeked above the sheets, but his eyes kept on returning as if drawn with a magnet. How he longed to press his lips to the pulse he could see beating faintly in her neck, and taste her.

She noticed the way he had bitten his lower lip at the thought, and was staring at his mouth, transfixed, her eyes wide with the same longing he was sure could be seen in his own. _No! You must control this. She cannot be yours!_ He shifted away slightly and turned, letting his hair fall down over his face to hide the anguish on his face. When had he stopped being able to hide his emotions around her?

After a few seconds to compose himself he turned back to her. "You saw how to do this before, can you remember or do I need to explain?"

"I think I know what to do." She still looked slightly uncertain, but strangely relieved. He couldn't imagine why. She'd only ever been nervous when it got to this point. "I'm ready."

He lifted his wand to her head as she closed her eyes, and before long he was depositing a long silver strand in the phial in his hand. The girl lay still and quiet, and when he pressed his wand to her temple once again she opened her eyes, staring straight up at him with no expression. He hesitated a moment, but she said nothing.

"Obliviate," he whispered.

It was only later that he realised that for the first time, she had not forgiven him for what he had done, and what he would have to do.


	39. Chapter 39

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

It had been eight days since Snape had woken her up early and started her on her new regime of brewing and learning the Dark Arts. Eight days since she had woken with the unexplainable sadness that seemed to permeate her very bones, and a strange clarity of thought that she had not experienced for several days previously. It had been nine since he had last touched her.

She still felt the need to please him, still _had_ to please him, the longing for his touch only increasing over the passing days. But somehow, over that night just over a week ago, she had lost the urgent, almost painful desire for him, her desperate need for him evaporating, leaving behind only a slow, burning melancholy that she couldn't seem to shake, and which deepened every time he shunned and rejected her.

He had been so careful not to touch her, fastidiously keeping himself out of arms reach unless necessary, and when it was, flinching whenever he realised how close her was to her, recoiling quickly if their hands reached for the cauldron, or a knife simultaneously. The first few times he had done so, she had looked up at him in surprise and hurt, searching for a reason behind the strange behaviour in his face. But his expression had been as closed and inscrutable as she had ever seen it, and before long her only reaction was a slight pause before she would resume whatever she had been doing.

She refused to let herself look at him in those moments, unwilling to let him see the pain that coursed through her every time he shied away from her touch, the pain she knew he would be able to see on her face, no matter how hard she tried to hide it. She told herself constantly that he had never pretended to actually care for her, that he had used and manipulated her until he got what he had needed. He had taken her promises and given none in return. He had never lied and told her he cared for her, yet somehow she felt betrayed, as if he had confessed feelings she knew he didn't have, and then discarded her.

She wished for the pain to ease, that she could stop caring, or that she could hate him for rejecting her so easily, but it just wasn't that easy. She'd taken to watching his hands as he worked opposite her on the long tables in the lab, or the almost delicate way he held his wand as he taught her new and horrific ways to hurt and maim. She could almost feel his fingers on her skin, and she would blush as she remembered writhing and crying out with pleasure in his arms, or how good his weight felt on top of her. Despite the fact that she'd shared his bed only a handful of times before he'd started avoiding her, she seemed to miss him most at night, when his side of the bed lay cold and empty.

He would wait until she was asleep, or nearly so, before climbing under the sheets and lying down as far away as the giant bed would allow him from her. He was always late to sleep, but no matter how early she woke up, he would always be gone. Some mornings she wouldn't have known he had even been to bed if it were not for the impression of his head on his pillow and the rumpled sheets on his side of the mattress. When he hadn't come to bed the night they'd been to Malfoy Manor she'd thought nothing of it. It had only taken the next day and one more night for her to realise what was going on.

Something inside her seemed to harden a little every time he spurned her, and the only way she seemed to be able to cope was the throw herself into the training Snape was giving her, grateful to have so little time to herself, and to be so exhausted at the end of the day that she spent barely a few minutes wallowing in self-pity before falling asleep.

Curses and potions that had at first seemed too horrible to contemplate, let alone use, she now performed without a moment's hesitation and always to the best of her abilities. It was not, she told herself firmly, because she wanted to gain his approval and a return to the way things had been, but because she found what she was learning interesting. The fact that it was dark and dangerous magic seemed to matter less and less each day.

Despite Snape's unwillingness to touch her, he was reserved, but willing to discuss the finer points of brewing, or helping her to better understand the theory behind the dark spells she'd been learning. Their evenings, to an outside, might have seemed cosy, the two of them sat either side of the fire, a book on each lap, and occasional breaks in the silence to ask or answer a question.

The quiet, however felt awkward to Hermione, and if her own eyes were not studying the cold, indifferent mask of the man sat opposite her, she would often feel his own gaze upon her face. In those moments she would wonder what she had done wrong, or whether he had only ever been using her for his own amusement. Most likely the latter, she would usually decide, and quickly try and lose herself in the words of the book before her to keep the tears from creeping into her eyes again.

Snape had set a strict schedule for her time. She was no longer expected to cook meals, but she still started every day by cleaning for a couple of hours. How the rooms still managed to stay as clean as before when she was doing less than half the work she had been she was not sure. Then she was expected either to study whatever Snape gave her or to brew as he watched over her, never speaking one word more than was necessary for her to understand what she was meant to do.

The few hours before dinner were spent learning hexes and curses, as well as defences against the same. He had been merciless with her, always pushing her to work harder, constantly throwing spells at her faster and stronger than before, and expecting her not only to deflect them, but to throw them back at him. They had duelled for hours in what had been her bedroom, now magically transformed into a room specifically for the purpose.

The first two days he had been intense, some fierce emotion flowing almost tangibly from him, his mood changing constantly, and without warning. He was continually watching the time, as if waiting for something to happen, tense one minute and as relaxed as he got the next, on occasion suddenly announcing that she was not to leave the practice room, library, or whichever room they were in at the time until he returned. And he would disappear with a swirl of his robes, leaving her to continue whatever they'd been doing for a short while until he returned.

But today was different. It had started the same as usual, but soon after lunch Snape had suddenly grabbed his arm, hissing. He had thrown stasis charms over two of the more difficult potions they had been brewing, as well as the one he'd been making that he'd refused to discuss, and had left her to tend the others. He'd left quickly with instructions for her to stay in his lab until he returned, although she wasn't to touch anything that wasn't necessary for her brewing.

That had been four hours ago and she had long since finished and bottled the last of the potions. She'd read the tome they'd been using to brew from cover to cover twice, and had tidied up and cleaned the shelves in the cupboards, although she hadn't dared touch the top one where the rarer and more dangerous ingredients were kept, knowing that Snape would had been furious had she done so without permission. The floor and benches were spick and span, excepting the 3 cauldrons that had been frozen in mid-bubble, and the waiting piles and jars of ingredients set neatly to one side of each.

Once more she checked though the items for each brew, making sure there was nothing further she could prepare for either. There wasn't. Involuntarily her gaze landed on the potion that Snape had been brewing by himself. Had she not been so completely bored she would have remembered his secretive manner and displeasure whenever she expressed an interest in the brew. Judging by the many variations of the potion she had seen him make, and the careful notes he had been making she guessed he was creating something new. Surely it wouldn't hurt to take a look.

As soon as he'd been called away, he'd placed the notebook into a drawer under the workbench that she knew was warded against anyone except himself, but you could always tell something by the colour and consistency of a potion, and there were a few ingredients laid out on the bench for later use. She took one last look at the door, but it remained closed, and so she walked around the bench and peered in nosily at the potion.

It was a deep orange colour, although it had a strange translucent quality to it. She eyed the ingredients still on the bench. There were several there that she had used before, many of them used in potions that would counter the effects of different poisons and toxins. There was one she didn't recognise at all.

Curious, she grabbed a small set of tongs, and was just about to lift a piece to take a better look, when the door opened, and Snape walked in. The tightly controlled mask slipped the moment he saw her hovering over the cauldron, and a look of absolute fury crossed his face. He strode across the room and plucked the tongs from her hand, looming over her intimidatingly. She stood gaping up at him, unable to move.

"Get… Out!" he spat.

She ran for the door almost before the words were out of his mouth. As she passed through the archway she risked a glance over her shoulder. Snape was slumped over the cauldron, his palms either side of it on the bench. The anger had left his face, and the last thing she saw as he disappeared from view was the look of terror that had replaced it.

 

* * *

 

Snape was brooding on the balcony again. It had become his favourite place to do so since the girl had been given to him. It was the one place in his rooms he would not be disturbed, since she now had access to every room except the study, and there he could always count on Albus to interrupt his silent contemplation.

The last week had been hard, both on himself and the girl. He knew he had been driving her hard, but he wanted to make sure she was as capable as possible before going into battle against far more experienced Death-Eaters.

She had picked up everything he had shown her after a few tries at most, even though he'd started to show her more darker and difficult spells in the last few days. Not that he'd really been all that surprised. He'd heard enough stories of how quickly she picked up new spells from the other staff over the years, and the Dark Arts spells he was teaching her were no exception. Despite his general dislike of foolish wand-waving, he had to admit to himself that he was… impressed with her skills.

When they had first started she had quailed at learning even some of the lesser hexes and curses, but he had quickly seen a change take effect within her. In one way the difference had been obvious from the moment he had awoken her after Obliviating her. She might be bound to follow his commands, but she was no longer so infatuated with him that she couldn't think for herself. On one hand he was relieved, but more and more he found himself missing the heated glances she had given him before. Now her eyes were dull and lifeless most of the time.

Over the last few days, however, he had seen the eager gleam that had appeared in her eyes at the prospect of learning a new spell, however nasty it was. He could see she was starting to be seduced by the Dark Arts. It had been inevitable, with her propensity to pick up new spells so quickly, and the knowledge the Dark Arts would seem to offer, especially when the witch was talented enough to be able to master pretty much anything she set her mind to.

Snape couldn't help fearing for her. She had been so subdued over the past week, only showing a hint of fire when learning either a potion or a spell, and even then he could see her thoughts were directed inwards. He was beginning to see rather too much of the way he had been himself when at school, lonely, introverted, and with a burning desire for knowledge and a good understanding of the Dark Arts. He desperately hoped the situation would be resolved soon before she would be too far gone along the path that he had trod so many years previously. If it didn't he would be forced to find another way to break through the walls that she had begun to wrap around her.

Luckily, it seemed the Dark Lord believed that the deciding battle was imminent. Snape had been called to his side a few hours previous. The Dark Lord had explained how he could feel the anticipation coming from Potter though their bond. He had been unwilling to invade the boy's mind further, considering the length of time it had taken for him to recover the last time. Exactly what the boy was preparing for, the Dark Lord wasn't sure, but he had started gathering his followers from all over the globe.

Just how many, and what creatures were on his side, Snape couldn't tell. The Dark Lord had been careful that no one except himself knew all the details, so that the Order could not be informed what to expect. Snape had had very little useful information in that regard that he had been able to give to Minerva. He had, however, managed to pass on the parchment given to him by the girl to the elderly witch.

At breakfast on the Monday morning he had instructed her to report to his office in a tone of voice that had made the Carrow twins look up at Minerva with a smirk, and the rest of the head table to look uncomfortable. Minerva herself had managed to look suitably anxious at the thought of what she might be required in the Headmasters office for, and he had breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that she was able to act appropriately around him. Despite her earlier assurances he had been worried she would not be able to pull it off.

They'd had little time in his office to discuss anything before lessons began, so he'd handed the note over to her, and sat down to watch her read through it quickly. He'd watched her expression flick from surprised, through worried before settling on determined. She'd informed him that she would deal with what the girl had told her, and that she would find a way to send a message back when she had any news. She'd inquired as to the girl's health, although Snape had read between the lines and understood that she'd really been asking about how he was treating her. He'd replied that the girl was as well as could be expected, before Minerva had had to hurry off to her first lesson.

An owl had banged on his office window a few days later, carrying a short letter addressed to him, informing him that there was no need to reply, and to pass on the second letter to the girl. He was thankful not to have to find another excuse to speak to her, especially with the Carrows watching him so carefully.

When the dark mark had flared earlier that evening, his first thought had been that been that they'd somehow been found out. He could barely remember what he had said to the girl as he had all but run out, and he'd not stopped to tidy away his own ingredients as he usually did, although he could faintly remember chucking his notebook in a drawer that no one could open bar himself. He'd been gone for some time now, and the girl was probably getting bored and nosey. He only hoped the more obscure ingredients would stop her from working out what he was trying to create. If the Dark Lord found out what he was making he was as good as dead.

Instead of being hexed the moment he had appeared, as he had half believed would happen, he'd found himself at a meeting to discuss the upcoming battle that the Dark Lord was sure was imminent. He'd breathed a silent sigh of relief, and put his mind to gathering as much information as possible. He would have to find some way to pass whatever he found out on to Minerva. The Dark Lord was convinced the fight would happen at Hogwarts. He'd been catching occasional glimpses of the castle in the mind of the boy, and was convinced that Potter would make an appearance there sooner rather than later.

Once Voldemort had finished describing what he had felt from the boy and informing his death-eaters about the many others arriving from other countries, they had begun to plan. Extra patrols of Hogsmeade and the area around Hogwarts had been arranged. The grounds were shielded and warded enough that Potter shouldn't be able to get into the castle, not without help at least, and there Snape had suspicions which he was careful to tuck away into the furthest corners of his mind, lest the Dark Lord catch sight of them.

After an hour or more, the meeting had broken up, a select few told to remain, the Dark Lord speaking to each of them in turn, each conversation hidden from the others. When it was Snape's turn the Dark Lord had had rifled through his recollection of the past week. For some reason he had also looked further back, first at the failed attempts by Draco to murder Dumbledore. He had lingered longest on the scene on the Astronomy Tower, forcing Snape to relive the events again and again until he was satisfied. What he had been looking for, Snape wasn't sure, and the Dark Lord had asked him no questions, despite his obvious interest in what had happened that night.

He _had_ been curious as to why Snape had again not been taking advantage of the girl's willingness to please, but again he hadn't pressed Snape for a convincing answer. Snape's excuse that they had been extremely busy and that he disliked mixing work with his own pleasure had been dismissed with a careless wave of long, cold fingers.

What had Snape worried though, was the way the Dark Lord had been eyeing him suspiciously, even more so after having rooted through his memories. What had he seen to make him doubt his loyalty? Had someone noted his chat with Minerva, or spotted the owl that had carried her message a few days later? Whatever the Dark Lord suspected, it was obviously not enough yet to convict him. He would have to be even more on guard than usual, although he was still unwilling to use the girl the way the Dark Lord expected.

Despite the darkness he was beginning to see gathering behind her eyes, he was reluctant to return to the way things had been. He knew his rejection was hurting her, and he had expected tears. They had stopped quickly, and even though he'd not needed legilimency to see the lust in her eyes when she looked at him, she'd soon seemed to accept the new status quo, even if she didn't like it.

Snape didn't want to ruin all the good work he'd done by backing off. He was sure that once this was all over, as it seemed it might be before long, she would get over it all that much quicker if he had been distant and uncaring, rather than a lover, no matter how unconventional. And no _matter how much I want to be._ He knew that was an impossibility though. _How could someone like her want me? I don't deserve her._ Minerva had said as much as well the previous week when she had questioned their relationship. _Damn Albus for putting ideas in my head! I should know better by now than to listen to him._

The old headmaster had been concerned when Snape had returned from the meeting an hour ago, and filled the portrait in on the details. Albus had been unable to think of a good reason for the Dark Lord's mistrust, but he had advised Snape to change his mind regarding the girl, since their changed relationship was the only thing he had questioned him on.

Albus had been hinting since the girl arrived that maybe some good would come out of her presence. Snape had deliberately chosen not to understand what he meant, and the painting had eventually come right out and told him a few weeks ago that he thought they would do well together. Snape had told him to stop being ridiculous, but he had never been able to completely shake the idea of a real relationship with the girl, no matter how improbable, and from the twinkle in Albus' eyes, he was well aware of how Snape felt for her.

Albus had therefore been extremely unimpressed with Minerva when she had told Snape to rethink his relationship with the girl, and annoyed that he had chosen to heed the witch's words. Of course Albus would suggest a return to the way things were before, no matter that Snape considered what he had been doing to her little better than rape. The old man was blinded with his silly notions of love. For him it was a cure all for everything wrong with the world, but Snape knew from bitter experience that he was wrong. No, he was going to ignore Albus' advice for once, and do what he though was best for the girl. What could a painting know about such things in any case?

Far below a bell rang, signalling the end of lessons. Snape sighed. He'd been outside long enough, wasting time, and who knew what the girl had been up to in his absence. They had plenty of work to be getting on with, and no time for idling. She was making great progress, but there was still lots to be learned if he was to give her the best chance at surviving the upcoming confrontation. With one last look up at the dismal, overcast sky he left the balcony.

When he opened the door to his lab, he found the girl leaning over his cauldron, eyeing up the ingredients to one side, a set of tongs in one hand. _Shit!_ There was enough there for someone as clever as her to have some sort of idea as to what the potion was for. Dread was replaced by anger, although in reality it was directed at himself for leaving it out in full view of the overly-inquisitive witch.

The girl jumped in surprise at his entrance, and immediately a guilty look crossed her face at being caught with her nose in the cauldron, even after he had made it clear she was not to concern herself with it. He strode across the room to glare down at her, pulling the tongs from her hand.

"Get… out! He ground out the word from between clenched teeth.

The girl ran for the door. Snape didn't watch her leave, slumping over the cauldron instead and staring down into the orange liquid. Gods, what if she had figured out what he was trying to make. Would he be able to remove it from her memories without leaving an obvious gap? He would have to look into her mind to see whether she'd figured it out, and if she had, he would have to take the risk of removing it. He couldn't afford to be discovered now.


	40. Chapter 40

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Snape took some time to regain his equilibrium before going in search of the girl. He removed the stasis spell from the potion, chopping or crushing the ingredients he had left on the board before adding them to the cauldron. He wrote each step and his observations in the thick notebook he had retrieved from the drawer.

The familiar rhythm of the knife against the wood finally soothed him, and before long he was beginning to wonder if he hadn't over-reacted and been too harsh on the girl. She may be smart enough to figure out from the ingredients he had left out that he was making an antidote of some sort. Even if she saw the venom,however, there was little chance that she could guess exactly what he was trying to neutralise.

It was also unlikely the Dark Lord would want to see her again. He had what he wanted from her: obedience, in body at least. Hopefully that would be enough for now, especially with him concentrating on preparing for a final conformation. And after that… well Snape just had to pray that the Dark Lord wouldn't be around after.

Snape completed one last step and watched the potion turn a shade redder. He noted the colour change down in the notebook and recast the stasis spell over it. He would complete it later that evening. The potion would not yet work well enough to be a cure for the venom, but he had a good idea of what to change to make the next batch more effective. He wasn't even completely sure why he had decided to start working on such a dangerous potion, except that something about the nightmare the girl had had a while ago had worried him enough to risk being caught creating it.

Snape tidied the workbench and scourgified everything before leaving the lab and going in search of the girl. He found her sitting on the floor on their sparring room, her arms curled around her legs. He had expected her to have been upset, but there were no traces of tears on her face, and she was just staring blankly at the floor in front of her. After a few moments she noticed his presence, and slowly stood up to face him.

"Is it time to practise?" she asked emotionlessly.

"Yes," he replied, frowning. He was becoming more and more concerned about her state of mind. She was becoming too detached, too accepting of whatever happened around or to her. Nothing seemed to get much of an emotional rise out of her anymore. He hoped the exercise would perk her up a little. Judging by what he knew of her, as well as the effort she put into mastering everything he taught her, and how hard she endeavoured to beat him when they duelled, he assumed that she must be getting some sort of pleasure out of it.

Snape stalked across to the other end of the room, throwing his frock coat off and undoing the buttons on his shirt collar. As he turned back to face her he noticed her gazing at the rarely exposed skin at his neck. The girl's expression hadn't changed, but her eyes had turned dark and hungry at the sight.

Snape swallowed, feeling strangely exposed, and had to fight the urge to do up his high collar again. He ran a finger under the material around his neck as a prickly heat swept through him, and he felt his cock twitch in response to her obvious need for him. He turned his head away for a moment, trying desperately to think of something else to take his mind off her.

The girl shifted uncomfortably on her feet, drawing his attention back again. His gaze slid down her body, over the ill-fitting dress she wore. It ended a few inches above the knee, and his eyes lingered on her long legs. With a start he realised that she'd lost some weight. She'd always been on the slender side, but her legs were looking far too slim, and now that he noticed, her cheeks seemed rather hollow. How had he not seen it before? They'd been spending most of their time in each other's company the past week. _Maybe that's the problem. It's hard to see what's in front of your eyes all the time. And it's not like you've actually been looking._

Despite her thinness, she still was extremely attractive and he wished he could cross the space between them and take her into his arms. Which was why, for the previous week, he'd avoided being in close contact or even looking too closely at the girl, knowing his self-control was constantly in danger where the girl was concerned. Never since Lily had died had he been so prone to letting his emotions rule his existence. What was it about this girl that had him so off balance?

Realising she had noticed him staring she looked away, folding her arms around herself, a small crease between her brows the most expression he had seen on her face for some time.

"You have lost weight," he stated plainly, trying to make it seem as if that had been the reason for his perusal of her body. He would make sure he watched her eat every meal, even though he had told her in certain terms that she would have to obey. She had been eating in the kitchen, but would be eating with him from now on. It was not because he liked to have her close by him, of course. He needed to make sure she kept up her strength or there would be no point in him teaching her, she would be too weak to fight. The Dark Arts took a lot out of your body, especially over long periods. He had to make sure she was as fit and well as could be if she was to survive.

"Today we will practice what you have learned. You are limited to the offensive spells you have learned over the past two days, alongside any spell you can think of to counter what I cast. Do you understand?"

The girl nodded sombrely.

"Prepare yourself."

* * *

That evening, the two of them were sitting across from each other at his desk in the library, eating dinner. Hermione pushed her dinner round her plate, feeling Snape's eyes on her yet again. He'd barely looked at her for days, even when teaching her he had done his best not to look at her, keeping his attention firmly on whatever tome she was studying or potion she was brewing. Fortunately her mind was now kept occupied with all the new spells and potions she was learning, and she was hard pressed to keep up with the demands Snape was making on her. If it wasn't for the horrible situation she was in, she would have been enjoying the challenge immensely. She almost couldn't wait to use the knowledge she had gained in the fight to come, although she knew she would be forced to fight against her friends.

At least when they duelled she commanded all his attention. In those moments she would push herself and him as hard as possible, hoping to prolong the fight as long as possible. It wasn't the type of attention she wanted from him, she longed for him to touch her, but it was all she had and she had been making the most of it.

But now something had changed again. His gaze had lingered on her since he had found her in their sparring room earlier. She felt her insides heat slightly and she shifted in her chair, trying to ease the sudden ache between her legs as she recalled how Snape had looked as he had prepared to duel earlier, his coat off and shirt loose at the neck. And for a moment, as his eyes had roamed over her own body, she had been half sure she had seen an answering gleam of lust in his eyes. Was that why he now stared at her, even now? Did he want her once more?

Hermione broke a potato in two and pushed the pieces around, trying to make it look as if she had eaten more than she really had. She had been picking at her food for the last ten minutes, barely putting anything in her mouth. She just hadn't been feeling that hungry the past week. Her appetite seemed to have left her at the same time that Snape had started treating her differently. She knew the lack of food was causing the weight to drop off her, especially with how hard she was pushing herself to improve and learn. If she continued this way it wouldn't matter how well she was able to lean the spells he was teaching her, she would be far too weak to fight. But she just couldn't face eating any more than she was managing as it was. Her stomach rebelled at the thought.

"Eat your food, girl. You will finish your meals from now on. If you do not like what the house elves serve, you will inform me and I will arrange for an alternative."

She looked up, meeting his eyes with a frown, her lips pursed in irritation, but chose not to say anything. She would have to do what he had commanded, and knew he wouldn't have said it if he would change his mind. Hermione sighed and dropped her gaze to her plate. She speared a lukewarm potato and cut it in half, raising it to her mouth and closing her lips around it reluctantly. She could feel Snape watching her still, his eyes on her lips as she chewed.

Sudden disappointment coursed through her. He was only interested in her lack of appetite. She had hoped it was more than that, but of course Snape just wanted her to be fit and healthy so that she would be able to fight with him, for Voldemort. She knew she looked awful, there were dark circles under her eyes and she was getting unattractively thin. No wonder he doesn't want to touch you when you look like this. The thought spurred her on to take another bite.

As she opened her mouth her eyes flicked up towards him face momentarily, and she caught a glimpse of him turning from her, his cheeks red. _What is that about?_ To be honest, Snape wasn't looking all that good at the moment either. His eyes were almost as dark as the ones she saw in the mirror, the lines on his face seemingly deeper than usual. He looked tired, more so than she had ever seen him before. _Maybe it's not all about me… maybe it's something else._ She knew he'd spent every evening working late into the night in the lab. _The potion… what is it?_

She took some time to eat as she thought, having to force every bite down. By the time Snape took pity on her and told her she could finish, the food on her plate was cold and congealed, and she was struggling not to be sick. She'd eaten far more than she'd managed for at least a week and her stomach was uncomfortably tight.

The look in Snape's eyes was surprisingly kind as he continued to speak. "There will be no more work for you tonight. You need to go to bed early and get some rest."

Hermione looked longingly towards the ancient grimoire she had been studying. Snape smirked as he followed her eyes to the book.

"Not tonight, girl. We will continue tomorrow."

As Hermione stood, their eyes met, and they both froze. She held her breath as they looked directly at each other for the first time in over a week. What was that expression burning in Snape's eyes? As usual, his feelings were indecipherable, and she could only wish he wanted her as much as she did him. She bit her lip nervously as she wondered whether her own face was any easier to read than his. The motion brought his eyes down to her mouth, and the moment was broken.

Snape turned away suddenly, his shoulders hunched, and she noticed the way his hands fisted at his sides.

"Go to bed, girl."

* * *

 

The door clicked shut behind her, and after a few moment of stillness, Snape finally let out his held breath and relaxed. That had been close. He'd caught himself staring at her more than once as she had eaten, and was sure that she had realised at least once. He'd had to quickly look away as she glanced up at him, feeling heat creep into his cheeks. He had hoped the girl wouldn't notice his flushed face. _Get a grip on yourself. What is wrong with you?_

He couldn't believe he'd not noticed how thin and ill she was looking before now. The light from the fire had played over her gaunt, pale face as she'd eaten. The more she ate, the worse she looked, but yet she kept pushing the food reluctantly into her mouth. He'd realised after a while that she was probably struggling after not eating much for over a week, and had taken pity on her, sending her away for some much needed rest.

Then she'd stood and their eyes had met, his breath catching at the sight of her, her eyes dark and red lips slightly parted. The fire behind her had lit up the wisps of hair that hung around her curls, giving her a golden halo, also showing him the outline of her slender body beneath the shapeless dress she wore. He'd been a breath away from throwing her onto the desk and taking his pleasure of her. The girl wouldn't have minded, not judging by the look in her eyes as she'd stared back at him. He'd had to clench his fists at his sides to stop from reaching out to touch her.

Snape's reverie was interrupted by a quiet pop as the house elves cleared the finished dishes from his desk. With an almost inaudible sigh he pulled his mind away from the girl, and went in search of some of his rarer tomes on potions, trying to find some inspiration.

* * *

An hour or so later, he snapped closed a particularly tedious book on the various uses of water-based plants in neutralising poisons. Nothing had sparked any new ideas, so he decided to return to his lab and finish the current variation of the draught he was trying to create, and hope that some revelation would come.

He left his library, extinguishing the many candles with an absent wave of his hand. Opening the door to his bedroom slowly, he crept across the dimly lit room. It wasn't that late, but he'd sent the girl to bed some time ago, and hopefully she was asleep. He had planned to sneak straight through into the lab, but his feet unconsciously took him to the side of the bed.

A single candle burned on the drawers by the side of the bed, and he could just make out the peaceful face of the girl burrowed into his pillow. She lay facing him, one hand grasping the corner of the sheet tightly, but it had fallen down over her waist. Her arm covered her bare breasts, but he could make out enough of her soft curves, slighter than they were the last time he had run his hands over them, but still enough to make him ache with need for her.

Without thinking, he reached down to touch a strand of hair that was lying across her cheek, and before he knew it, his finger was trailing gently down her soft cheek. When her eyes fluttered open it seemed only natural for him to bend down and press his lips to hers. Her mouth was soft and warm under his, and he tangled his hands in her hair to pull her closer.

It was only when he felt her stiffen beneath him in surprise that he realised what he had done. Pulling back quickly he ignored her wide eyed expression, turning away from her as she sat up and reached out one hand towards him as if to pull him back, the other pulling up the sheets around her chest. His mind raced as he debated what to do next. He would be breaking his promise to Minerva if he did what every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do, not to mention risking everything he'd worked for over so many years. Slowly he faced the girl again.

She was staring up at him with a wary look on her face, although he could see the flicker of hope in her eyes. Snape didn't speak or make any movement towards her, and after a few moments the girl dropped her outstretched hand back down to the bed, looking disappointed. With all the strength he had left in him, he spun and left the room before she found the courage to question him. Closing the lab door behind him he slumped back against the wall, wondering whether he'd ruined it all in one thoughtless moment, and half sure that even if he had, it would have been worth it.

* * *

(6 days later)

It was early evening. Snape was at his desk in his study, going through some paperwork pertaining to school administration, and reflecting on the past week with the girl. He'd spent the whole week thinking about her, refusing to answer Albus' concerned questions about what was bothering him. He couldn't have voiced the problem if he'd tried.

She'd not said a word about the kiss he'd given her six days ago, although something in her manner had changed. He'd not changed in his demeanour towards her, not consciously at least, but the melancholy air that had surrounded her had disappeared. She'd still worked as hard to master the spells and memorise the books he gave her, but she'd put back on some of the weight she'd lost, and there was a warmth in her eyes that had not been there for a while.

He'd woken once in the night to find his arms wrapped around her once again. Fortunately he'd managed to extract himself without disturbing her, although for a few moments he had just held her and pretended that he lived in a world without a Dark Lord, and where he was free to care for the woman in his arms. Such thoughts were dangerous, but despite the risks he'd been unable to stop fantasising all week about the defeat of the Dark Lord, and a life with her by his side. An absurd delusion, and one that had almost been his undoing.

He'd been called briefly before the Dark Lord the previous day, ostensibly to check up on the situations at Hogwarts, but Snape had sensed an undercurrent of uncertainty in his manner. There was something else going on, and Snape couldn't figure out what. He was used to being in the Dark Lord's confidence, and this sudden change worried him greatly.

When the Dark Lord had probed his memory, the sense of mistrust that Snape could feel emanating from him was almost tangible, although someone less skilled in the arts of Occlumency and Legilimency would likely not have noticed. It had taken all his abilities to stop the Dark Lord from seeing memories and thoughts of the girl that needed to be kept hidden. He'd been so pre-occupied with his own wishes that he'd barely been able to keep up the walls in his mind that were needed to keep the Dark Lord out, and he'd had to frantically pushed forward image after image of the girl's lessons to keep him from looking further.

The Dark Lord had been delighted with her progress, but his pleasure had quickly turned to irritation as the conversation quickly turned to other events at Hogwarts. Several of the Gryffindor's had been making trouble and had holed themselves up in the Room of Requirement, the Carrows unable to get in to catch them. Luckily the Dark Lord was unaware of just how much power Snape had over the castle as Headmaster, and had not known he would be able to enter the Room as easily as his own study, had he wished to.

He'd still earned the Dark Lord's displeasure for not having dealt with the offenders, and had expected to be punished, but strangely the Dark Lord had chosen not to turn his wand on him. Instead he'd been dismissed, with orders to deal with the students immediately. The Dark Lord disliked having anyone, even children, openly defying him or his servants. Snape had so far delayed dealing with the problem, but he knew he could only put it off for so long. Exactly how he was to resolve the issue, without having to punish the students far harsher than he liked, was the dilemma holding him back.

Snape realised suddenly that he'd been daydreaming again, something that he'd never been prone to before. The pile of work in front of him was getting no smaller, and with a sigh he set to work again. It was not long before a scuffling noise alerted him to the fact that there was someone else in the room. In one smooth movement he pulled out his wand from his sleeve and stood, holding it out at the figure on the opposite side of the desk.

He gaped for a moment before finding his voice. "You… how did you get in here?"


	41. Chapter 41

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

  


* * *

Hermione was sitting on the floor of the library, surrounded by books, supposedly trying to find the answer to a difficult question Snape had posed earlier that evening, but really daydreaming about the man himself.

Snape had continued to try and keep his distance from her the past week since he'd kissed her, but she had realised something the moment he had turned from her and fled; he wanted her. She was sure of it. It was the only thing that made sense when she thought of his behaviour over the previous weeks.

Something had happened, she thought, the last night that she had been taken in front of Voldemort, which was stopping him from acting on being with her. What it was she wasn't sure, as she recalled how Voldemort had told Snape that he would be allowed to keep her, and even have children with her at some point. But there had been parts of the conversations she hadn't been allowed to hear. Perhaps something had been said then. Maybe Voldemort had wanted them to concentrate on studies.

It could be anything stopping him really, but at least it would explain the dark glances, the way he had been so careful not to come near here, even when teaching, the way his hands trembled sometimes when he looked at her. He wasn't shaking with anger, she knew what that emotion looked like on his face.

Then there was the way Snape had ended up wrapping his arms around her as they slept even though she wasn't even sure he was aware he had done so. She had woken a few times this past weeks to find herself held tightly but the man who had fallen asleep as far away in the bed as possibly, but who had sought her out at some point during the night, and who perhaps found comfort in holding her as her slept.

The first night she had tried to gently extricate herself, but had quickly frozen when Snape had stirred, whispering her name as he pulled her closer. The next night she'd not even tried to move, and just drifted back to sleep. She'd been loath to wake him, strangely unwilling for him to know of his actions. It was a strange secret to keep, but she somehow felt that once he knew what he was doing, he would find some way to make it stop, perhaps refusing to share the bed with her anymore. His presence beside her at night was comforting, and she had no desire to give it up.

The knowledge that he did in fact feel something for her had lifted her spirits considerably the past week. What with the incredible opportunity she had to learn from someone so knowledgeable, and at her own pace, as well as her newfound knowledge warming her heart, she was happier than she had been since being brought back to Hogwarts. For that matter, she was probably happier now than any time in the past year. 9 months spent which two boys in a tent fruitlessly searching for horcruxes wasn't exactly a pleasant experience ether.

She hadn't realised how much she'd missed her lessons until Snape had started teaching her. Reading the books she had stuffed in her bag hadn't been quite the same as being challenged and pushed by someone more experienced and knowledgeable.

Hermione turned her attention back to the books, realising that she had wasted more than enough time daydreaming, and that at some point Snape would appear, demanding an answer to his question on charmed potions. She turned the page of the book immediately before her.

The topic was extremely interesting, especially the way Snape was teaching it, although she wished profusely that he would set her an essay on the subject. She had mentioned a few days ago that she would enjoy such a task, but he had only grumbled something about not having time to read the encyclopaedia she was likely to write on the subject, and had ignored any further hints. Even so, Hermione felt it important to make notes on the work she was doing, as it helped her to collect her own thoughts in order to present them logically.

Head bent and deep in concentration, she was cross referencing a sentence with another paragraph in one of the books she had read earlier, when the door flew open, banging against the wall loudly. She jumped up, sending various tomes flying as Snape stalked across the room and grasped her by the arm.

"Come, Miss Granger. It's time."

"Time for what?" His face was strained and anxious, and she reached up without thinking to smooth the lines away with her hand. Snape grabbed it and pulled her close.

"Potter is here. You must go!"

Hermione blanched _. That means it's time for me to take Harry to Voldemort._ Overwhelming panic took over and she started shaking as he pulled her across the room. Strange that she had seemed so blasé about it for the past few weeks, but now that the moment was here…

"I can't… I don't want to…" She choked as the words left her mouth, and her legs gave way under her as she tried to fight the promises she had made. Snape stopped, and gathered her up in his arms before she hit the floor. Setting her down in an armchair, he walked across the room, pulling a cupboard door open, revealing phials filled with silvery liquid arranged neatly inside. Hermione barely noticed. _Oh Gods, there's nothing I can even do to help him. If only I'd never promised to obey Snape._

He turned to her with a couple of phials in one hand, and came towards her.

"You want me to… I have to find Harry, don't I?" she said, still too caught up in her own worries to notice what he was doing.

"Yes," he said bluntly. "But not for the reason you think."

Hermione said nothing, looking up at him with a frown. She was understandably confused, but knew better than to question him.

"Every instruction I have given you in regard to Mr Potter is to be forgotten. You will _not_ take him to the Dark Lord. Understood?"

"What…? But, why?" She gaped in astonishment.

"No questions for now, Miss Granger. I will explain everything you need to know. Firstly, I have something of yours, and it is now time to return it." He held out the hand containing the phials for her to see. She recognised what they held immediately. The swirling mist could only be one thing.

"Those… those are mine? But when did you…?"

"It is far easier and quicker for you to see than for me to tell you. Once we have restored these memories I will explain further."

Questions poured through her brain, but she managed to hold her tongue.

"What do I have to do?"

 

* * *

Snape carefully placed her memories down on his desk before returning to the cupboard. He pulled out a dark silver bowl that she immediately recognised as a pensieve, before crossing the room again and placing it down next to the phials.

"You are still held to your promise to obey me, Miss Granger, so listen carefully. This is of the utmost importance. I am about to show you a memory that will explain certain things, although it is likely to leave you with more questions than you started with. At the moment those questions must go unanswered, for there is too much to do and very little time. All you need to understand for now, is that you must trust me. Should you be captured, you must make sure that you have obliviated any memory of what I am about to show you, as well as this entire conversation. Should the Dark Lord discover this in your mind, both our lives would be forfeit.

"You will view this first memory in the pensieve. I will then show you how to replace your own memories back inside your head,using two of your own memories that are vital for you to remember. Once I teach you this, if you survive the upcoming battle, you will be able to regain all that you have lost by replacing the rest of the memories in this cupboard."

"Wha…?" she began, but paused at a sharp look from Snape.

Then he sighed, looking defeated. "Go on, Miss Granger. I expect you will burst if I don't allow you at least one question."

There were too many she wished to ask, so she voiced the first one that popped into her head. "Why can't I just put the first memory back instead of using another?" _Damn that was a stupid question…_

"You cannot put the first memory into you head, because it is mine… It would be quite painful if you tried. After this has all finished, provided Potter defeats the Dark Lord, you will be able to retrieve the rest of your memories. These will include your own version of what I am about to show you."

"But why can't you just give me my own memory instead? Why do I need to see yours instead?"

Snape eyed her for a moment as if to remind her that she had already used up her single question, but chose to answer her anyway. "There are certain moments in your memory that I do not wish for you to have access to at present. You will see only what is necessary for you to understand, and no more for now."

Hermione's mouth twisted in irritation. She so hated not knowing or understanding something, and every question Snape answered was only giving rise to a hundred more. Something else occurred to her suddenly.

"You said if I am captured I must obliviate myself. Won't that mean that I will lose my own memory that you show me how to put back."

Snape's eye's flicked towards the small clock on the wall before he answered. "You would, but within your other memories is more than one copy of there particular memories. You will not have lost it altogether, although the original may have gone. You need these memories to complete the task you have been set."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak again, but Snape stalled her with a glare. "I've answered more than enough questions already. You will understand soon enough. "He gestured towards the bowl on the desk. "I believe you know how to use a pensieve."

Hermione stood up and walked slowly towards the desk. "I've never used one, but I know how it works, yes."

Snape seemed to roll his eyes at her statement, but didn't comment on it. Instead he lifted his wand to his head and closed his eyes in concentration for a moment, before pulling out a silky strand from his forehead and depositing it in the pensieve. "This memory is taken from the night you arrived here. It is not a full recollection of the nights events, but it will show you enough of what you need for now."

"And the other memories, the ones I will be putting back, when did they happen?"

He grimaced at the question. "One your your own memories is of the cell you were held in under Malfoy Manor when you were captured, the other covers certain events across the past year. Now… that is enough, we have much to do before Pott… before you must go."

Hermione eyed him curiously, wondering what he had been about to say.

"Quick girl. You are wasting time!"

With one last look Hermione turned to the pensieve before her, and lowered her face to the surface.

* * *


	42. Chapter 42

As the mist resolved into the first memory, Hermione saw herself lying in Snape's bed. The fire was burning merrily and the room was warm. She looked around with a frown. The room was decorated very differently to how it was now. There were still very few personal items around the room, but the furnishings were rich and comfortable, the colours warm.

A movement on the bed attracted her attention and she watched her past self as she slowly began to wake up and eventually sit and look around the room in puzzlement. She was wrapped in thick blankets which fell down part-way to reveal that she was still naked and covered with dirt from her time at the manor.

Hermione took a moment to realise that Snape was also in the room, having just stepped in and now closing the door quietly behind him. Hermione of the memory gasped and pulled the blankets up tightly around her, cringing at the sight of him.

"Miss Granger, please. I will not touch you. You are quite safe, for now anyway." Hermione didn't move, except to stare at him disbelievingly.

"Miss Granger, trust me. All is not as it seems. There are things that you don't know, things that Dumbledore never…."

"Dumbledore is dead, you saw to that." The hatred in her words was obvious. The real Hermione was shocked to see the sad expression that fell over Snape's face at these words. "You betrayed the one person who trusted you. Why? Why did you do it? Is the thought of grovelling at that snake's feet so appealing to you?!"

"You understand nothing, girl." His face was ashen and his manner defensive. He was very little like the Snape that Hermione had known as her professor or the man that had kept her captive for the past few weeks

"Maybe you'd like to explain it to me then," she spat. Hermione could see that in her memory she had been livid, possibly spurred on into standing up to Snape only because he seemed more unsure of himself that she had ever seen him. In her fury she knelt up on the bed and moved towards him, intending to hit him, but he caught her by the wrist, and she winced at the ache his fingers were causing. As her face furrowed he released her quickly, stepping back out of her reach if she decided to go for him again. Hermione gaped down at her arms, obviously not surprised by the pain, but by the lack of it. Her eyebrows shot up as she saw that the red, angry marks and burns that the chains had left now looked old and partly healed. She looked up at him questioningly.

"I have healed you as best I can for now. I will provide you with more healing paste later."

She frowned again in confusion, shifting slightly on her knees. "But, why have..." The blanket she had wrapped around her had dropped slightly as she moved, exposing one breast. She hadn't noticed, as intent on Snape as she was, but he did, his mouth dropping open for a second before he spun around and, rubbing the bridge of his nose, interrupting her and asking her to cover herself again.

Hermione gaped at him, before she flushed with embarrassment and hurriedly rearranged the blanket to cover herself. Before she had a chance to start berating him again, Snape spoke, still facing away from her.

"Granger, I have no time to spend convincing you to trust me." He seemed surer of himself suddenly, more like the Snape she knew, taking advantage of Hermione's momentary loss of momentum. _Back to Granger now, is it?_

"I can only think of one way to show you that I do indeed speak the truth, that I want to help you. There are robes in my wardrobe which you can wear. I'm afraid they will all be too big, but you will have to make do for now. I will wait outside, come out as soon as you are dressed."

"Why should I trust you even that far?" she snapped back.

"You have no choice," he retorted. "You are here in my power whether you trust me or not. If I wanted to attack you I could have done so quite easily by now." He raised his eyebrow at her, daring her to contradict him. She just huffed and looked away. "I will wait outside," he said again.

Snape left the room. Hermione waited for a minute, her eyes on the door, before she climbed off the bed. She kept the blanket over her shoulders, clearly not trusting Snape not to re-enter the room while she was dressing. She pulled the wardrobe open and peered in, with the real Hermione looking over her shoulder.

Snape was right. All the clothes were far too big for her. Memory Hermione eventually decided on one of his teaching robes that she could almost wrap around her twice. She stood there for a moment, clutching the robe around her with one hand and looking so forlorn that the real Hermione almost reached out a hand to comfort her, before she remembered she couldn't.

With a soft sign, Hermione drew herself up and left the room. The robe dragged on the floor, but she managed to kick the train behind her so she wouldn't trip. The real Hermione followed her out into the corridor, but had to stop suddenly to avoid running into her own back. She stood just outside the room looking up at Snape, who was leaning against the opposite wall of the narrow hall, with undisguised contempt.

"Let's get on with it then, Professor." She hissed the last word. "Although I'm sure there is very little you could possibly say or do to change my mind."

Snape's eyes glistened dangerously at her words and manner, but he only smiled with fake courtesy and gestured for her to walk in front of him.

Looking at him suspiciously for a moment, Hermione stuck her nose up in the air and sauntered slowly down the hall. Snape's mouth tightened at her display, but said nothing, except to direct her to the door at the end.

The real Hermione followed them both through to the headmaster's office. _Just what is going on here?_ Hermione of the memory took no time in marching straight over to Dumbledore's painting and called his name. It was sleeping, or at least pretending to be, but roused itself to greet her.

"Ah, Miss Granger, how lovely to see you. Tell me," he whispered, flicking his eyes quickly over her head at Snape who was glowering at them from across the room. "How is everything with Harry? Have you had any success?"

Hermione looked blank for a minute, then shaking her head and looking worried she murmured, "I don't know. I can't remember anything that has happened since the end of last year." She clapped her hands over her mouth and let out an almost hysterical giggle. "Why can't I remember? She turned suddenly on Snape. "What's wrong with me? Did you do something? Did something happen to Harry?" Her voice had steadily got louder and she was now almost screaming at him.

"Granger," he drawled wryly. "Why don't you give me a chance to show you instead of throwing a tantrum? I can explain everything if you let me."

Ignoring the dig at her behaviour, Hermione looked back up to Dumbledore. "Professor," she pleaded. "I don't know if I…"

"My dear, I think you need to give Severus the benefit of the doubt and let him show you. But please, for now, keep anything you learn concerning the whereabouts and doings of Mr Potter to yourself. If you wish, we can discuss anything you may want to know in private later. As skilled as Severus is at Occlumency, there are certain things we just cannot risk Tom learning when he searches Severus' mind."

Hermione looked questioningly at Snape, as if to ask what Dumbledore had meant by his cryptic request, but he did not elaborate. Looking back at Dumbledore one last time as he gave her a slight wink, she finally nodded her assent.

"This way Granger." Snape opened a cupboard and pulled out a pensieve. Hermione gave it a thoughtful nod, realising what was about to happen.

Snape stalked across the room to Dumbledore's painting, pulling at one corner carefully. It swung open on a hinge, revealing a small hole, out of which Snape pulled several small glass bottles. Walking back towards the pensieve and Hermione, he began to explain:

"There are a number of memories to get through, this may take a little time and I expect you will find it quite draining. These memories come from both you and myself… Miss Granger, I ask you to promise never to reveal what I have to show you of my own history to anyone no matter what may happen, not even Potter, without my express permission. Besides it being extremely personal…" Here he stopped and glared at Dumbledore, who shrugged and pulled a lemon drop out of his pocket and began to suck on it. "… There are things Albus believes Potter must not know until the correct moment. He has somehow… managed to make me promise to follow his wishes in this." He muttered softly under his breath. "Irritating old windbag…" Hermione put her hand over her mouth, glancing quickly at the painting. Dumbledore just beamed at the two of them.

"Miss Granger, I need to you promise. This is apparently of the utmost importance, _despite the fact the old idiot doesn't think it important enough to tell me why,"_ he muttered the last quietly. Again the memory Hermione quickly hid a smile, but the real one giggled at Snape's words.

"Granger…?" he growled.

The Hermione from the memory looked momentarily unsure, but eventually nodded and said, "I promise."

Snape also looked a little anxious, and he hesitantly pulled out one bottle from the collection and tipped it into the pensieve. As Hermione moved to lower her face into it, Snape caught her by the shoulder. "Gran… _Miss_ Granger," he spoke heavily. "You are about to see certain things from my past that no-one but Albus knows. Many of the do not show me in the best light. I hope…"

"Severus, Miss Granger is more than capable of seeing past the things you once did to the man you are today. Have faith in her, as well as yourself for once."

Snape didn't seem convinced, but he clamped his mouth shut and said no more as Hermione sunk her head into the glistening pool and disappeared. Snape immediately turned and walked over to his desk, grumbling again under his breath.

"Now, now Severus. Is it really that bad that someone else might understand what you go through on a daily basis, what you have done for years to help keep our world safe?"

"I never wanted to do this, as you know perfectly well," Snape said waspishly. "And what do you suggest we do about her? We both know what will happen if she stays here. The Dark Lord will insist that she accompany me when I go to him, and he will wish to view her humiliation and torture through her own eyes. She is no Legilimens. I would have to wipe her mind again and do unspeakable things to her or he will not be convinced. I have no desire to do it, Albus. There must be another way, preferably one that doesn't end in my own demise for having let her go free." He sat down and held his head in his hands, looking so utterly miserable that Hermione felt horribly sorry for him.

 _What am I seeing in that memory?_ she wondered. _What could possibly be worth this much concern on Snape's part?_

They waited 10 minutes in which the real Hermione had wandered around the room, looking closely at things she had never had the chance to examine before, especially the paintings of the old headmasters and headmistresses, all of who were only pretending to be asleep, except for Dumbledore, who she was sure gave her a quick wink as she passed. Snape had barely moved, except to mutter darkly to himself about the stupidity of people who took the advice of batty old men.

Eventually Hermione saw herself re-forming out of the pensive, looking stunned. "Merlin's beard," she almost wept. "That was…"

Snape stood up and strode across to her, holding her by both shoulders this time. "I think we should move on quickly to…"

Then Hermione did something her real self could never had believed possible. She gently put her hands on Snape's chest and looked up into his eyes with sadness. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "You did that all for Harry, for her, and we've been so horrible to you."

Snape stood transfixed by her for a second before he shook her off and took a step back. "I don't need your pity, Miss Granger. Or your understanding. I made many terrible mistakes and now I pay for them. That is all. It is enough that you use your new-found knowledge to trust me to help you."

Hermione opened her mouth, obviously wanting to say more. The sudden glare from Snape made her close it again quickly. She then stomped up to the painting of Dumbledore and stood before him with a cross look on her face. "Professor, I think I can understand why, but I can't pretend that it wasn't an utterly unforgivable thing to ask of someone. I can't imagine the pain if either Harry or Ron had asked me to do that to them. I'm not sure I could have done it, not for any reason."

The real Hermione gasped, unable to believe or understand her own words. Dumbledore looked down kindly at Hermione from the memory, but the usual twinkle in his eyes was absent. "I won't disagree with you, Miss Granger. It was unforgivable, but it was necessary."

 _What in Merlin's name was in that memory?_ She needed to see to be able to understand fully what had just happened. Hopefully Snape had kept that memory, or perhaps she would see it when she replaced her own memories in her head.

"So that means…." She trailed off, chewing her lip while she thought. She shook her head. "OK, I think I'm ready for the next memory," she said suddenly. The painting of Dumbledore smiled at her as she approached the pensieve again, a knowing look on his face.

Snape used his wand to retrieve the first memory and place it back in its bottle, and then opened a second and poured it in. "This is mine again, this time recalling the events of your capture last night." Hermione nodded absentmindedly, and soon she had disappeared into the depths of the pensieve again.

"I'm glad you finally have someone else who understands, Severus. I know it hasn't been easy the past few years, being able to only show your true face to a… a batty old man, I believe is the phrase you like to use."

"I want no-one's pity, least of all that of an insufferable know-it-all who was foolish enough to get herself into a position where she is likely to get one, or both of us killed. If I had wanted sympathy I would have asked for it long ago."

"I am afraid that you will not be able to allow her to leave here Severus. Even if the two of you somehow manage to make her leaving look like a fortuitous escape, Tom will be extremely displeased with you." The memory suddenly started to fade around Hermione, and she strained to hear the last words as she was pulled out. "You know full well what he will do to you, and if..."

***end memory***


	43. Chapter 43

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

The memory dissolved around her and she felt herself falling back out of the pensieve. She stood staring down at it for a few moments as her mind processed the events she had just seen. She felt her legs start to tremble, and had to clutch at the desk to stop herself falling. _Snape is… helping us. I don't understand. Is he on our side, nor not?_ She barely noticed that the man himself had grabbed her and was gently lowering her into the chair. His arms stayed around her as she thought frantically.

She was horribly curious about the memories Snape had shown her that had made her trust him, but whatever she'd seen had obviously been convincing, judging by her own reaction. He'd said it was personal… and for some reason it had upset her, enough for her to feel bad for him, and to tick off Dumbledore about something.

_Thinking of Dumbledore…_ She thought back to what she had heard just before the memory had finished. Snape's cheek was now resting on her head, so she had to pull away slightly to look at him. "What were you and Dumbledore were discussing at the end? What didn't you want me to hear?"

His arms tightened around her. "That's not important now. We must…"

"No! You were deciding what you were going to do with me, weren't you, without even asking what I thought? You could have let me go, but you made me stay here knowing what would happen."

Feeling suddenly furious she shoved at Snape, pushing him away and climbing to her feet. "You…the two of you decided I had to stay here just to protect you." She looked up at the painting of Dumbledore, prepared to give him a tongue lashing too, but conveniently he was missing from the frame. She looked back to see Snape eyeing the portrait with a sneer. "You did those… things to me, just to save yourself getting into trouble with Vol… with him!"

He didn't deny it, so she continued. "You said you didn't want to do it at first… I felt sorry for you. But when it came down to it, you chose… to hurt me and… and screw me, just to spare yourself a beating! I even thought you…" She trailed off, feeling suddenly sick to her stomach as her understanding of everything that had happened over the past weeks was suddenly turned on its head. _He doesn't care… he was just saving his own skin._

She stepped up to Snape, tilting her head so she could look him in the eye. "You selfish bastard," she whispered, pulling her arm back. She tried to throw a punch at his face, but he was too quick for her, grabbing her hand easily, as if he'd been expecting it. He grabbed her opposite shoulder with his other hand, holding her tightly.

"No," he growled, his eyes flashing down at her, ""We don't have time for this, Her… Miss Granger."

She struggled in his arms for a moment, trying to break his grip. "Let go of me, you… you coward!"

Snape actually hissed, throwing her away so that she stumbled across the room. "Don't… call me that." He strode after her, anger etched on his face, and she instinctively cowered in fear, forgetting that he was supposed to be on her side, and expecting to feel the Cruciatus at any second.

It never came, and after a few moments she peeked up at him, finding him backing away from her, a look of dismay on his face. He quickly schooled it back to a mask of indifference when he saw her looking. "Miss Granger." His words were clipped and toneless "I have explained enough, and there is no time left for any more…stupidity. You will do as I say."

Hermione could almost feel her vow of obedience taking hold, waiting for instructions as he spoke.

"You will calm down, there are to be no more… childish tantrums. I will explain how to replace your memories, and you will listen carefully. You are not to speak except to answer direct questions. I will tell you everything you need to complete your task and no more. Do you understand?"

Hermione's eyes were on the floor as she automatically replied, "Yes Master." She didn't see the look of revulsion on his face at the name. She waited quietly for his next words, the vow forcing her to compose herself and listen attentively.

After a few moments silence, Snape stepped across to the desk, picking up one of her memories and turning round to show her. "This contains the memory of the night that you were captured." He gestured to the other one on the desk. "The memories in that phial are mainly of the past nine months, although there are some from up to around eighteen months ago. You helped me to remove important information from you mind that you didn't want the Dark Lord to see. Nine months of memories finding their place in your head will be extremely disorientating at first, so we will put the shorter memories back first. It will give you a chance to get used to the feeling before we replace the larger amount."

Snape opened the first phial. "I will help you with the first one, then you can do the second yourself." He placed the stopper down on the desk and pulled his wand out from a sleeve. "Use your wand to draw out the memory from the phial. You must clear your mind before you put your wand to your forehead. It helps the memory to find its place more easily, and you are less likely to develop a headache. The memory may take a few moments to reintegrate, and you will feel somewhat dizzy afterwards. It is best if you sit while we do this." He pointed at the chair with his free hand, and she sat without a word.

Snape moved in front of her, sticking his wand gently into the neck of the phial and slowly drawing out a glistening strand. The phial was quickly empty, the memory floating through the air towards her.

"Clear your mind…"

She did as told, pushing all her fears and worries to one side as best she could. It wasn't easy, but after a moment or two she nodded almost imperceptibly. The tip of Snape's wand touched her temple gently, and almost immediately she felt a tickling sensation speed outwards from that point. Her head span as she felt the memory being pulled back into her head, almost like air into a vacuum. It was the strangest sensation, she could almost feel the memory settling into place as if the space had been waiting for it to return. Vivid images began to flash through her mind as she remembered, almost reliving each moment.

***Sudden panic as she was shaken awake, a dark figure looming over her. Her terror turning to anger as he asked her to trust him. Disbelief as he spoke about Harry's mission. _Why would he know such a thing and not tell Voldemort?_ She flinched from him as he moved towards her. He argued logically in her face of her distrust, offering to show her his memories, and she eventually decided she had nothing to lose by allowing him to do so.

She spoke harsh words over what Dumbledore had asked of him, before asking Snape whether he could help her escape. The terror as he had refused swept through her again, and she begged him to help her. Then there was relief as he told her he would try. At least by taking her memories Harry and Ron would be kept safe, their task still a secret… unless Snape had fooled her. Finally there was the strange feeling as she pushed the dangerous memories to the front of her brain where Snape removed them. Then… nothing. ***

As the memory snapped fully into place she opened her eyes and looked up at Snape. The feeling of wrongness had gone, and the memory felt as if it had never been gone. She cast her mind back over it again. There was something odd about it… there. She couldn't recall what it was that Snape had shown her in his memories, or the first words she had spoken, although she knew she had said something. It felt like something on the tip of her tongue, like she knew the answer, but her brain just couldn't access it.

She looked up at him with a frown, but was unable to go against his instructions and ask the question. She pouted petulantly instead. Snape saw and smirked, and she realised he was well aware that she was dying to say something.

"Has the memory settled completely?"

"Yes, sir."

"Are you ready for the next one? I assume you are capable of doing it yourself.

"Yes, sir."

He wordlessly handed her the second phial, and waited, watching while she uncorked the top. She pulled out her wand from the pocket at the front of her dress, before looking back at him.

"You may proceed."

Having got permission to use her wand, she gently stuck it through the neck of the bottle, her intent enough to make the memory adhere to the tip of the wood. She drew it out slowly, the length and thickness of the strand far greater than the first. There was obviously far more in these memories than before. She looked up at Snape one more time, feeling strangely nervous about the sheer amount that she would have to relive. She was sure it wouldn't be quite so easy this time.

 

* * *

 

The last image faded and the memory sunk into place seamlessly. Hermione sat in silence for a good minute, replaying some of what she'd just remembered. She barely noticed Snape, who was hovering over her anxiously, until he suddenly thrust something at her. She took it automatically. It was only when she looked down at the tissue he had given her that she noticed that she was crying.

"Pardon?" She realised that Snape had spoken to her.

"Are you alright?" There was a strange tone to his voice and she looked up through tear filled eyes to see him looking concerned.

She shrugged, surprised slightly by her own emotions. "Oh, I'm ok, I think", she said, using the tissue to wipe her eyes carefully and giving herself a moment to think of what she could safely tell him about what she had been doing the past year without revealing too much. "It's just… it was hard, that's all. There were a lot of bad times…" She sniffed. "It was a nightmare really. At least I had Harry and…" _Ron… before he abandoned us anyway. At least he came back though. Oh Gods, when he got splinched…!_

Her heart clenched as she realised how much she'd actually missed the boys. Strange that she'd thought so little of them up until now. She glanced up at Snape who was still watching her with a tight, sad smile, and she realised suddenly how hard it must be for him, to live a life with no friends. He'd always kept himself distant from everyone else that shed' seen. He didn't even seem to be friendly with any of the Death-Eaters. She could understand that, especially if he was telling the truth and was really on the same side as her.

_No, don't feel sorry for him, he's a surly old bastard who's always been far harsher than needed. Look at how he treated Harry, what he's done to me. He's not a nice guy, not even a good spy for Voldemort for that matter, considering everyone has always been suspicious of him. Look at Malfoy. He persuades people to his way of thinking with a bit of charm… well and money, but they wouldn't be as trusting if he acted like Snape always has._

Emotions that she hadn't felt for some time were churning now somewhere deep inside her, and if it wasn't for Snape's order for her to keep calm and quiet she would have taken him to task about the way he had treated her. Strange that she had dealt with so much over the past weeks and kept so calm, so detached, yet now she could see clearer. Maybe it was knowledge that she had just gained making her feel surer of herself. Despite still being under oath to obey Snape, she no longer seemed to be as under his thrall as she had been before. She felt more herself than she had for a long time, and could suddenly see how the loss of her memories had made it easy for Snape to manipulate her.

One thing that seemed to be the same was the slow pulse of desire that warmed her stomach when she looked at him. It didn't stop her feeling furious at what he had done to her, in fact, it made her even angrier… that he had been able to treat her so badly and yet make her feel such a way about him.

She watched as Snape walked over to the cupboard/desk and pulled out a pile of parchment, passing it to her where she still sat on the chair. She glanced down at it then back up at him, silently asking what he had given her, curiosity crushing her fury into a dull throb.

"You have been researching something to do with the task Dumbledore gave to Potter. Those," he gestured to the stack on her lap, "are your notes.

_Research… I've been researching horcruxes? And the Hallows?_

There is more…" He had to stop her as she went to turn over the top page. "A few weeks ago you learned something that was important enough for us to risk paying Potter and Weasley a visit. What he did with the information I cannot tell you."

He paused as she practically bounced in her seat in excitement, completely forgetting her earlier anger in her eagerness to read what she had written. _Harry! I saw Harry and Ron! I wonder how they are. Did I find a horcrux? I can't believe Snape let me see them. How did I explain turning up with him? I wonder if they found the horcrux. Maybe they destroyed it already. Did they find anymore? I wonder what they've been…?_

"You think so loud I can practically hear you," he said dryly. "Before you lose yourself in your research, there are a few more things to discuss."

Reluctantly she tore her gaze away from the stack of parchment to look at Snape. He reached into a pocket and drew out a small sealed envelope. She put her hand out to reach for it, but Snape didn't notice, his attention on the item in his hands. He looked somehow dejected, making her wonder what was in the envelope. She dropped her hand as he spoke again.

"Two weeks ago you were in my office when Minerva discovered you. She came close to hexing me into oblivion for hiding you in my chambers, but once she heard the whole story she agreed to help you."

Astounded, Hermione could only stare at him for a moment. _McGonagall knows? But how much? Did Snape convince her he could be trusted, or did she know all along? She's going to help me? How? Damn not being able to ask questions! Damn him for not explaining better!_ Snape smirked slightly at her, and she wondered if he was perhaps reading her mind.

"Minerva is now aware of the truth behind… certain events, which has convinced her that I am actually working against the Dark Lord."

_Truths? What events?_ How can she be sure of what side he is on? He might have been letting me research horcruxes, but he could only be trying to play both sides.

Snape continued, apparently unaware of her inner dialogue. "You also spoke to her of the task you are trying to complete, and later gave me some new information to pass to her." He turned the envelope over slowly in his hands, staring at it as if he could see through it to what was hidden within. "This is her reply."

He held it out towards her and she reached to take it. Their fingers met, as did their eyes as second later. Snape was the first to move, snatching his hand quickly away and stuffing it into a pocket. Hermione slowly pulled her arm back a few seconds later, her eyes still glued to his, her anger at his treatment now completely gone. She laid the envelope down on the parchment in her lap, rubbing where he had touched her with her thumb. She tried to tell herself she was only imagining the tingling in her fingers.

Snape's gaze was drawn to the movement and suddenly Hermione could take the breath she didn't realise she was holding. She felt confused _. Nothing new there, Hermione._ What was it she felt for him? One moment she hated him and the next… well she wasn't quite sure, although her body seemed to know what it wanted. What he felt for her was just as difficult to understand.

A mere few hours ago she had been so certain of both, convinced that he desired her, and wanting him too, but everything had been turned on its head. Perhaps he had only acted so as part of whatever plan he had concerning her. He had pulled back from her touch like it had offended him, but the warm expression in his eyes even as he had just pulled his hand away from her made her think that maybe he wasn't as disinterested as his actions suggested.

Her gaze dropped to his lips, watching the elegant way they moved, and with a start she realised that once again he was speaking and she wasn't listening.

"…go to the Room of Requirement and meet your friends."

She gaped like a fish, unable to tell him she hadn't heard everything or to ask questions about what she had heard. Something must have shown on her face because Snape paused, studying her face for a moment before rolling his eyes. "What is it girl?"

She bit her bottom lip, knowing he wouldn't be happy she hadn't listened. "I… ummm, could you repeat all that last part. I'm not sure I understood it all."

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose with his long fingers, but chose not to comment on her lack of attention. "You have half an hour to read your research and find what you need. I will then give you your last set of instructions before we use the time-turner to go back a short way. The events of this night are already underway, but I needed time to prepare you. When we leave I will be calling the entire school to the Great Hall. You must go to the Room of Requirement to meet your friends." At this he glanced up at her, his expression strangely uneasy.

She stared at him in shock for a moment before finding her voice. "My friends? You're letting me go?"


	44. Chapter 44

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

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Hermione had left the letter from Minerva until last, choosing to skim through the pile of parchment in the order she had left it, hoping she'd organised it in such a way that she would be able to pick out the important details in the smallest amount of time. She was correct in her assumption, finding that she had left herself a list of all six horcruxes near the top, and then her notes in reverse order, showing how she had figured everything out.

One thing bothered her though. The list contained the four horcruxes they knew for sure; _the diary, the ring, Nagini_ and _Slytherin's locket_. She had also written a couple of ideas for the other two remaining items _; Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's diadem, Riddle's special award_ and _basilisk_. Next to these she had also written _Lestrange vault (high possibility- BH hiding something. Harry and Ron to find way to get in)_ and _Room of Requirement._ They were all fine, but it was the final two words that concerned her: _Voldemort_ … then _Harry._

When she had first scanned the list it had only taken her a few moments to figure out what she had meant. Harry had a piece of Voldemort's soul in him. It was the only thing that made sense. It also meant Harry had to die. She felt sick at the thought, but nothing else could explain the things that had happened to Harry, particularly in the years since Voldemort had returned to a corporeal form.

Had she told McGonagall this? How about Snape, did he know? He had revoked the order for her to take Harry to Voldemort, so perhaps he didn't. Snape had assured her she could have a few moments to talk to Dumbledore as they left through his office. She planned to ask him then about Harry. For now there was nothing else to do except open the letter Minerva had sent her.

She stuck her finger under the edge and started ripping the seal open. A crash from across the room made her jump and grab her wand reflexively. She watched with bemusement as Snape cursed, whipping out his wand to vanish the broken phial he had just knocked off the small table in the middle of the office with his billowing robes. _Serves him right for flouncing around like that._ He hadn't made it easy for her to concentrate on what she was reading, the rhythm of his boots beating time on the stone floor drawing her attention away from the parchment in from of her.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the wand in his hand vanished again, and with the barest glance at her he resumed his pacing. She could see the tension in the way he held himself, his shoulders rigid and an uneasy frown on his face. She watched him for a moment more, before shaking her head imperceptibly and returning to her letter. Ripping it open, the contents made her forget the sound of Snape treading back and forth for a moment.

It was short and to the point, a couple of sentences explaining that Riddle's award and the remains of the Basilisk had been checked for dark magic, and had come up negative. Minerva had then mentioned how she agreed that Hogwarts was a likely place for another horcrux to have been left, but that they had been unable to access the Room of Requirement, due to the large number of students taking refuge in it. It was too difficult to move and hide such a large number of people without someone noticing.

Hermione pushed the note back into the envelope and took a few moments to straighten out in her head just where they were with the horcrux search. Three horcruxes destroyed. The snake would have to be dealt with when they faced Voldemort. Two unknown horcruxes, two remaining possible ideas for what they might be, and two possible locations. Surely Harry and Ron must have found at least one horcrux, why else would they risk coming to Hogwarts?

She stood up, carefully placing her research on Snape's desk. "I'm finished," she said quietly.

Snape whirled to face her immediately, stalking over to where she stood. He wasted no time as he continued where he had left off fifteen minutes previously. He had a serious, intense look about him as he started speaking. "Miss Granger, I have a few more instructions for you before we go. Is there anything you need to ask me first?"

Hermione thought for a minute then shook her head. _None that you are likely to answer at least._

"We will be going back an hour to 10pm. This will place us just before the time that Potter will arrive in Hogsmeade. There are alarms set up there that will alert the Death-eaters to his presence. The Dark Lord will immediately gather his forces and converge on Hogwarts. He has believed Potter will come here for some time. He is prepared to fight the deciding battle here. If we arrive back at 10pm this will give me time to prepare, and for you to get to the Room of Requirement to meet him when he arrives about half an hour later."

Hermione's eyes darted up to the clock on the mantelpiece for a second. It was only 10.40. _Harry is in the castle right now!_ But then she frowned. Snape had been with her since just after 10pm. How could he know when Harry had got there? Snape didn't stop to give her a chance to ask.

"I will be calling the whole school to a meeting in the Great Hall, so that you have the opportunity to move about the castle unimpeded. I will send the word out just before Potter arrives in the castle. It should not take long for the students to arrive in the Hall. This last year they have been… convinced to obey instructions as quickly as possible. I would imagine that the castle will be free around a quarter of an hour later. I cannot guarantee how long I can keep everyone in the Hall. It will depend on how quickly the Dark Lord and the other Death-Eaters arrive. I will try to draw it out as much as possible."

He paused for a moment, waiting for her nod of understanding before he continued. The information was coming so fast she had already forgotten her earlier question.

Now he looked even more serious as he continued. "Once you leave these rooms you must not talk about the time you have spent with me, nor will you mention anything that may lead anyone to question my loyalty to the Dark Lord. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do."

His face seemed to grow darker, and when he spoke again his voice was deeper, more gravelly than usual. "This is of the utmost importance, Miss Granger," he said, stepping towards her and taking hold of her arms. "I am giving you an order, and I need you to comprehend what may happen if you try to find a way around it so that you can inform your friends. I am a trusted advisor to the Dark Lord, and he must not suspect me. You are not the only one who has a task from Albus to complete. No one must suspect that I am in fact not faithful to the Dark Lord. Minerva is aware of this, but unless the Dark Lord has been defeated you are not to speak of it, even to her. You must let events play out as they will, and you must not interfere because you have knowledge that may lead you to see the situation in a different light. The next time you meet me you must act as if I am your enemy.

His eyes fixed on her, and she knew he was waiting for her to reply again. "I understand. I won't do anything to give you away, I promise." A tingle of magic burst through her as her oath took force, and as the sensation receded she was suddenly all too aware of how close he was to her, and the way the heat and his earthy scent washed over her. Her breath suddenly seemed laboured as she stared up into his raven eyes.

Slowly she became conscious of how painfully his fingers were digging into her shoulders. "Please, you're hurting me," she whispered, shifting uncomfortably. She thought he hadn't heard her, except a moment later his grip lessened slightly, and he leaned slowly towards her. She waited, breathless thinking he was going to kiss her.

Suddenly he was gone, and she could have cried out with disappointment, despite the fact she hadn't even known a few seconds earlier whether she wanted him to kiss her or not. Snape had backed off a few paces, his eyes lowered in contrition.

"What…?" she began, but he didn't give her chance to speak again. "There are two more things you must know. First, you have permission to use everything you have learned to defend yourself and to fight against the Dark Lord's forces, only…" His face softened slightly, although he still would not meet her eyes, instead focusing on objects around the room.

"Her… Miss Granger, you must be careful. If the Dark Lord is victorious, and you have been spotted fighting against him there will be serious repercussions, for both of us, should we survive. Try not to be seen, unless you are with Potter. The Dark Lord could be persuaded that you were under my orders to keep Potter safe until you complete your task to bring him into the Dark Lord's presence."

Hermione looked at him uncertainly. She understood Harry had to face Voldemort in order for him to destroy the piece of soul that lived in Harry, but did Snape? His next words confirmed her suspicions.

"I have… something… I must tell Potter, something no-one else can know. You must try to get him to meet me privately, without him knowing what you are up to. If necessary, you will have to help me to subdue him so that I can pass the information on. I understand that he is unlikely to want to listen. However, neither of us can foresee what the next few hours will bring. I cannot guarantee where you may find me, and it may prove impossible to do so. If it does, you will… you _must_ ensure that Potter reaches the Dark Lord. He must allow the Dark Lord to… to…"

"…to kill him." Hermione finished in a whisper, her eyes beginning to fill with tears as she thought of her best friend's fate.

Snape's gaze snapped up to meet hers. "You know?" He spoke just as softly as she had. Silently she nodded her head. She could feel her bottom lip start to quiver as she held his gaze.

"I'm sorry."

His words were too much for her, and her face crumpled as tears started to fall. Hermione covered her face with her hands and began to sink towards the floor, but a pair of arms surrounded her and pulled her tight against a hard chest. His robes enveloped her in a warm cocoon, and she dug her hands into the fabric at the front of his smock coat. The action was familiar and soothing, despite the fact she had done so before under very different circumstances.

For a few minutes she cried hard, her face pressed tight against him, although whether it was for Harry or for herself she couldn't have said. Snape held her silently, perhaps understanding there was nothing that could be said that would comfort her.

After a few minutes the tears began to slow, and her breathing evened out. Still Snape held her tightly, and she found herself unwilling to be the one to pull away first. Releasing her hands from their grip on the front of his coat, she began to play idly with one of the many buttons that ran down the front.

Feeling her calm somewhat, Snape pulled back so he could look at her. She tried to keep her head down knowing she was a mess with her face streaked with tears and snot, but Snape lifted it with a finger under her chin. She found it hard to meet his eyes, embarrassed at the way she had blubbered all over him. Snape surprised her by pulling a handkerchief from out of a pocket and carefully wiping her face.

"I don't want him to die." She found herself murmuring, "I wish…" She trailed off.

The handkerchief paused on her cheek. "I know it doesn't make it any easier, but I know how you feel," Snape confided quietly.

She lifted her gaze, intending to tell him he couldn't possibly relate to what she was feeling, but the pained expression in his eyes stopped her, and she realised that perhaps he did understand. She put her head back down on his chest, wrapping her arms around him in a reciprocal gesture of sympathy.

"I… I'm scared," she mumbled into his coat. Snape tightened his hold on her, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"You'd be a fool if you weren't," he replied.

They stood there for a few minutes in silence, taking what comfort they could from each other. The sound of the clock on the mantelpiece chiming the hour brought them back to their senses and reluctantly they released each other and stepped back. Hermione smiled tremulously up at Snape, but he only looked morosely back at her.

"It's time. We must go."

He pulled out his wand and a few small pieces of fabric, enlarging them with a quick spell. He passed the pair of jeans, a jumper and socks to Hermione. "Transfigure your dress into a t-shirt if you wish. Be quick."

He turned away as she began to put the jeans and socks on, wondering whose wardrobe Snape had swiped them from. She did as he had suggested and transfigured the dress into a plain white t-shirt, over which she pulled the jumper. It felt strange wearing something other than the dress she had become so accustomed to. She wriggled in discomfort, just as she realised she had no shoes.

"I'm done."

Snape turned, and in his hands she saw a pair of trainers. He passed them to her and she sat on the chair to lace them up. They were slightly too small, but a quick tap of her wand remedied that. As soon as she finished Snape held out his hand, which she took. He hauled her to her feet, and walked across to the door, not letting her go. He pulled her down the hall and out into his office.

"You wanted to speak to Dumbledore?"

"I… no, I don't think so. Not anymore." Snape had already answered the question she wanted to ask, and she found herself growing cross with the old man who had told Harry so much, yet who had concealed the most important piece of information from the person it concerned the most. She refused to even glance in the portraits direction. "Let's go. I'm ready."

Snape still held onto her with one hand, and with the other he pulled out his wand, casting a disillusionment charm around the both of them. "We must do this outside the office," he said, pulling the time-turner out. "Or we will meet our…my past self."

With interest Hermione noted how his cheeks coloured slightly, and again he seemed not to be able to look at her. Snape opened the door to his office quietly, pulling it shut behind them a few moments later.

He raised his wand again. "Silencio," he whispered. With the hand that held his wand he awkwardly pulled out the time-turner from under his coat, looping the chain around Hermione's neck as well. Without further pause, he turned the dial once, and released, and they both waited as time spun back. Nothing around them seemed to have changed as time resumed its normal course. Snape removed the chain from around the both of them, holding it carefully in one hand as he turned to Hermione.

"If this all goes well, if the Dark Lord is vanquished, or if I die, the promises you made me are null and void. You can have your life back." He swallowed hard, and a shadow seemed to cloud his eyes for a moment. "If it all goes badly and we both survive, find me, and I will do what I can to protect you once again. I think I can promise you… a better life than the one you may find with another of the Dark Lord's followers." He let go of her suddenly, his hand coming up to cup her cheek as his other arm pulled her close. "Take care… Hermione. Keep yourself safe."

Again he leaned towards her, and she closed her eyes in expectation of his kiss. At the last moment he changed his mind, and she felt his lips brush across her forehead. Disappointment once more soured her stomach, but she let none of it show on her face as he stepped away from her once more.

He flicked his wand at the closed office door. "I have given you access through my wards. If something happens to me you will be able to get back in to access your memories. When we leave, you must cast a disillusionment charm around yourself, and another silencing charm. Follow behind me a short way. I will go towards the Room of Requirement, but once we reach the sixth floor staircase you will have to continue without me. If anyone is watching it will look strange if I take a detour to walk past the room. Potter will be arriving in Hogsmeade at any moment. I must make sure of the Carrow's whereabouts before he arrives in the castle."

He turned towards the circular stairway, then paused and turned back to her again, a look of contrition plastered across his face. "I want to… I… apologise, for everything. The things I have done to you…"

Hermione silenced him by pressing her fingers to his lips. "Shhh. I may not understand everything, but I think I know enough to see that you were only protecting me. You said you would try and help me and you have." She moved her hand so that her fingertips trailed along Snape's high cheekbones. "Thank you," she breathed, looking him straight in his eyes. The longing in his gaze was so strong that on impulse she reached up to crush her lips against his for a brief moment.

She pulled away before he had a chance to respond, not really sure whether she wanted to know whether he would have kissed her back or rejected her. Looking down so as not to meet his eyes. "I'm ready."

For a few seconds there was no movement, then he began to move slowly down the stone stairs. "Cast the spells now," his voice drifted back up to her. She pulled her wand from her sleeve and whispered the charms he had suggested before following down the staircase behind him.

Snape set off down the corridor toward the staircases at his normal fast stride, his robes billowing around him, leaving Hermione half-running to keep from falling too far behind him. They passed through several galleries and narrower corridors, ascending three small flights of stairs to the sixth floor. Snape's stride never faltered, and he gave no sign that he knew she was following him.

As Snape passed by the bottom of the stairs that led up to the next floor Hermione slowed. She saw his step falter slightly, and his shoulders stiffened. His free hand twitched and his head turned almost imperceptibly, as if he was fighting the impulse to turn and look at her. Then he was gone, the long ends of his robes disappearing around the corner at the far end of the hallway, and she was alone. She fought the impulse to run after him, feeling strangely vulnerable and defenceless away from the security of Snape's rooms and his presence.

Cautiously she crept up the stairs and emerged into a small passageway that led to the hall where the door to the Room of Requirement could usually be found. Suddenly she became aware of the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere in front of her, and she pressed herself quickly against the wall, avoiding a tapestry that would give her away if it was seen to move.

Her heart pounded as a figure entered the passageway from the far end. Hermione held her wand out before her, keeping it pointed at the form of Alecto Carrow as she trotted inelegantly past her. Her toad-like face was expectant and she hurried as if she was eager to get somewhere. Perhaps she already knew about Harry. He must have arrived in Hogsmeade a good five minutes previously, and Hermione assumed there must be some way for the Death-Eaters to relay information to one another.

_Harry… and Ron…_ Her alarm faded into excitement as Alecto descended the staircase she had just come up, and her thoughts turned instead to her friends. So much had happened since she could last remember seeing them. Worry suddenly replaced excitement. Would they notice that something was different about her? She felt almost like a completely different person to whom she had been. And how would she explain her long absence? Snape had given her no idea of what she might say, and she hadn't given the matter any thought herself until now.

She resumed her journey towards the Room, thinking furiously. Nothing seemed to come to her, and before she knew it she was staring up at the large expanse of wall where the door should appear. _I'll just have to tell them I've been with a friend, but I've taken an oath not to reveal their identity._ It was the truth after all, and an easy story to maintain instead of trying to keep track of something more complicated.

She glanced around her, checking that the hall was still empty, before turning back to face the wall. She closed her eyes, thinking hard. _I need to get in. I need to get in_. She opened one eye to peek. Nothing. _Damnit!_ She was usually so good at getting the Room to appear quickly. She closed her eye again. How could she get in?

A few minutes passed as she tried different things to gain access to the room, and when the room still didn't appear she leant her head against the cool wall in defeat. _I just want to find my friends._ A tickling sensation across her forehead made her move back in surprise. Silently the door was forming, the details slowly flowing across the stones. It was smaller than usual, plain and easy to miss, as if the room itself was hiding.

Her nervousness mounting, Hermione stepped towards the door, taking a deep breath and laying her fingers on the small brass handle. It turned by itself at her touch, and the door swung open before her.


	45. Chapter 45

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Some parts of this chapter have been transcribed from Deathly Hallows.

 

* * *

Ron crept quietly down the tunnel, bringing up the rear behind the other three. Up ahead Neville was talking to Harry, who was following close behind, but Ron was barely listening to their conversation, instead replaying the events of the day in his head.

They had been lucky to be found by Aberforth so quickly after apparating to Hogsmeade. The three of them had been so eager to get to Hogwarts, none of them had considered the possibility that Hogsmeade might be as well guarded as the castle itself. Even luckier was the fact that Aberforth had a way into Hogwarts, and it had been a huge surprise seeing Neville appear from behind the portrait of Dumbledore's sister.

They hadn't planned beyond getting into the vault, assuming Griphook would be there to help them get out, and they certainly hadn't planned to come straight to Hogwarts, but it had seemed like the only thing to do after escaping from Gringotts. After the ruckus they had caused Voldemort would soon know they had taken Hufflepuff's cup, if he didn't already.

Hermione had certainly done her homework, working out the identity of the horcrux for them. Both Harry and he had missed her intensely in the days after she had been taken by the Snatchers. She had been the driving force behind most of their progress with their task and had also been the peacemaker between the three of them. It hadn't taken a day before Harry and he had begun to argue; about their next move, about where to camp, over who would guard duty first that evening.

It had been during one of their arguments that Harry had shouted Voldemort's name, and they had immediately been surrounded by Snatchers. Ron was not really sure how they had managed to get out of that mess, the short time they had spent in Malfoy Manor had affected both of them badly, and Dobby's death had been particularly hard for Harry to take.

Two good things that had come out of that whole fiasco however; the location of a horcrux, and Luna. She had been invaluable in replacing Hermione as the brains of the group. Not that the blonde girl could ever truly take her place in the trio, of course, but they had benefited from the calm way she could diffuse any tension between the two boys, and from her uncanny ability to see straight to the heart of a problem. Despite their worries, she had even done an excellent job masquerading as Bellatrix Lestrange. _Just a different type of crazy really. If_ it hadn't been for the fact that the goblins had been forewarned they might have got away with it.

Ron shook his head and smiled fondly at the back of the diminutive blonde that was breezing along happily in front of him. He'd grown quite fond of her in the weeks they had been together although he wasn't quite sure just _how_ fond he was yet. He had caught himself admiring her more than once and had immediately felt guilty, Hermione's face coming to mind instead.

He felt somehow disloyal to Hermione for thinking of another in that way. True, they were not in a relationship, but he had recently begun to think that there was some sort of unspoken promise between them, something that would develop when the time was right. But he'd not seen Hermione for about a month and a half, except for that strange half-an-hour where she had turned up at the cottage, all secretive about where she had been and who with. And then she had disappeared as quickly and mysteriously as she had come, leaving the two of them worried and wondering how she had managed to escape.

Who was helping her? The two of them were convinced that she had been talking to someone before apparating away. Why were they keeping themselves hidden if they were on the same side? Harry hadn't mentioned anything, but Ron had felt there was something strange about the way she had acted. She had been happy and as animated as usual when talking about her research, but something had been off. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was, but he knew enough to feel that the connection, that feeling of there being something more than just friendship between them, had somehow disappeared.

Ron wondered where she was now. Perhaps she was with someone from the Order. They would surely know that something was happened. The events at Gringotts couldn't have gone un-noticed, and surely it wouldn't be too long before Voldemort knew they were in Hogwarts. Perhaps McGonagall would know where she was. She must have a way to contact the rest of the Order.

The dark tunnel was now sloping quite steeply upwards. "Almost there," Neville called from the front. "Anyway," he continued, returning to the conversation he'd been having with Harry, "once they realised they had no hold over me, they decided Hogwarts could do without me after all. I don't know whether they were planning to kill me or send me to Azkaban, either way, I knew it was time to disappear."

Ron was confused. "But aren't we heading straight back into Hogwarts?"

The light that Neville was carrying dimmed for a moment as he went round a corner. "Course," he said. "You'll see. We're here."

Ron could now see the end of the passage, just up a short flight of stairs ahead of them. Neville scrambled up and pushed the door open. "Look who it is! Didn't I…. Hermione! How did you get here? Look who I brought."

Ron climbed through the door behind Luna as quickly as possible, blinking in the sudden bright light.

At first it was just a blur of faces, and then, out of the crowd he found the one face he had wanted to see more than any other, standing a way apart from the others. "Hermione! He cried, hearing Harry echo him in the same moment. They both rushed across to her and she threw herself at them, the three ending up in a tangle of arms.

Finally Ron pulled back to look at their surroundings. They were in an enormous room, full of hammocks, bookcases and people, and the walls were covered in hangings, with three of the house emblems represented, but no Slytherin green and silver. The other occupants were crowded round the three of them, but giving them some space in the centre. Luna was standing by Neville, a smile on her face as she watched the three of them. Ron suddenly felt slightly uncomfortable with the way he was hanging onto Hermione in front of her, and stepped back a bit more.

"Where are we?"

Neville replied. "Room of Requirement of course! Surpassed itself, hasn't it? The Carrow's were chasing me, and I knew I had just one chance for a hideout: I managed to get through the door and this is what I found! Well, it wasn't exactly like this when I arrived, it was a lot smaller, there was only one hammock and just Gryffindor hangings. But it's expanded as more and more of the DA have arrived."

"And the Carrow's can't get in?" asked Harry

"No, it's a proper hideout, or at least it was," a bitter voice replied. "As long as one of us stays in here, they can't get at us, the door won't open. Doesn't explain how she got in though."

Looking up in confusion, Ron began to notice something strange in the way everyone seemed to be hanging back from the three of them and watching them almost warily. No, that was wrong, they all seemed to be eyeing Hermione in particular. Still with one arm around her he glanced round. There were a lot of hands holding wands, and the atmosphere in the room was strained.

"What's going on?" he asked nudging Harry, who finally seemed to look around properly and notice the tension in the room for the first time. "Hermione?" She just shook her head. "Dean, Seamus, what's the problem? Why have you all got your wands out?"

"Why don't you ask her that?" replied Seamus. "Ask her to tell you who she's been with the last month or so. She's turned, gone traitor. She's probably come in here to help them catch us."

Ron felt Hermione's arm tighten around his waist. "Hermione," he asked quietly. "What's he talking about?"

Hermione's mouth opened and closed a few times. "I… I can't…" she said eventually.

"That's all she's been saying, even though we told her we already know. Word around the castle is that she's been living with Snape, not coming out of his rooms at all."

Next to him, Hermione let out a sob and turned to bury her face in his shoulder. He tightened his grip around her, and felt Harry take a step closer on her other side. He glanced around the room again.

"That's ridiculous!" Harry scoffed. "What could possibly make you think that?"

The Slytherins… Some of the ones with Death-Eaters for daddies started talking about it a few weeks back, and it's all round the castle. Some of them have been spreading the word that she's fucking him too. She's helping _them_! Who knows what she'll do if we don't stop her first!" Seamus took a step towards her, his wand coming up slightly, although he hadn't quite got up the courage to point it directly at her. Ron couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You're barmy, mate. Our Hermione would never do that. If she's been with Snape he must have been keeping her prisoner after the Snatchers took her. And since when have you been listening to what Slytherin have to say?"

"How come she's here now then? How did she get out?"

Ron turned to her. "Help us out here, Hermione. We can't tell them what's going on if we don't know ourselves. Have you been with Snape? How did you get away?"

Hermione only shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks, before hiding her face in Ron's shoulder again. He exchanged a worried glance with Harry over the top of her bushy hair. More wands were being lifted, although most people looked uncertain.

"Hermione," Harry cajoled. "Come on, surely you can tell us something."

"I can't… tell…"

"Can't, or won't? said Ron, suddenly having an idea as to why she was being so reticent.

"Can't," she said, her voice muffled by his jacket.

"An oath! Did you take an oath?" said Harry, cottoning on to the same idea that Ron had had.

Hermione nodded her head. "Yes. I can't tell you anything."

"Can you write it?" he asked.

He felt her tense for a moment, then she shook her head. "No, I can't write it either."

"Well, she came to help us a few weeks back," said Ron loudly, addressing Harry, but intending for everyone to hear. "Gave us some important information that we used to get one step closer to getting rid of You-know-who. She can't have been with Snape. He never would have let her visit us like that. Nobody who supports him would want us to know what she told us. And whoever it was knew where we were and didn't attack. It can't have been Snape or any of the other Death-Eaters."

Hermione had gone completely still as he had spoken, and made no move to confirm or deny what he had said.

"There you go, Seamus," said Harry fiercely. "She's taken an oath so she can't tell, and she's still been helping us."

But Seamus still hadn't given up, although most of the wands around them were back down by people's sides, the atmosphere in the room slowly changing. "How'd she get here then, if the Snatchers took her?"

Ron looked down at her, wanting to hear the answer for himself. She'd refused to tell them back at Shell Cottage the day she'd turned up there, and he was curious too. She lifted her head, speaking quietly so only those closest could hear. "I can't say that either."

"This all sounds dodgy to me, Potter. She can't tell us where she'd been or even how she got here. I still say she's turned." He looked around for support, but found little, most people had obviously started to see sense.

Beside him, Hermione suddenly seemed to brighten, and she reached into a pocket, pulling out an envelope. "Read this, but you can't tell anyone else who wrote it. They… it's important no one knows who's been helping me."

"Why not?" said Harry gently. "Are they in danger?"

"Yes, if You-know-who found out…" There was a strange expression in Hermione's eyes as she trailed off.

"You read it first mate," said Ron, nodding to Harry, who took the envelope from Hermione and opened it. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, and Ron finally let his arm drop from around her shoulder. Despite the way she had clung to him, and the feeling over protectiveness that had overcome him, he felt uncomfortable continuing to hold her like that. He looked over at Luna, who was watching the proceedings with a strange, secretive smile.

Ron looked back to Harry, who was frowning down at the parchment in his hand. "You've been doing more research on the… you know whats?" Hermione nodded, and Harry continued, his voice low enough for only the three of them to hear. "But this isn't your writing… someone else has been helping you look? Oh, why do I recognise the writing?" He waved the parchment under Ron's nose, and he took it.

The letter was short, explaining that a couple of items had been checked for dark magic and had been found free of it, and that the Room of Requirement was a likely place for a horcrux to be hiding, but they had been unable to check it. He knew right away who the writer was, having seen it plastered across too many of his transfiguration essays.

"McGonagall…" he whispered, and saw Harry nod in agreement. "She'd been helping you?" Hermione nodded again. "Did she find you with whoever was holding you? Have you been here in the castle since then?" A short pause, then another nod. The tears were beginning to dry on her face now, although her eyes were still a bit red.

"There you go," Ron crowed loudly, folding the note over so no one could see the writing, and waving it in the air. "Hermione was saved by the person who wrote this, who both Harry and I can confirm is on our side, and they've been hiding her in the castle since and helping her work out how to get rid of You-know-who."

"See Seamus," said Harry. "There's a perfectly good explanation."

"Yea, and maybe next time you'll think twice before believing anything a Slytherin has to say. Did you even consider they were saying that so you wouldn't trust her, if they knew she had escaped from whoever was holding her?"

Seamus had gone red, and was now looking a bit ashamed of himself. "Ah, you know I never meant anything by it Hermione." Ron snorted loudly. "I'm sorry, it's just, you know, with everythin' that's going on…" He waved a hand around the room generally. "It's hard to know what to believe. All this sneaking around makes you a bit paranoid, you know?"

"It's alright,"Hermione replied. "If it was the other way around who knows what I would have done." Harry muttered something under his breath that Ron didn't quite catch, although Hermione obviously did, and elbowed him hard, giving him one of her trademark glares.

He just grinned at her sheepishly, rubbing his side. "We missed you Hermione. Needed you to keep us in order. We were a bit of a mess until we found Luna."

Hermione glanced across at her then, and Luna stepped forward out of the crowd towards them. "Looks like we've got a lot of catching up to do, but I think we need to be quick. I get the feeling that something big is going to happen tonight."

Ron glanced quickly around the crowd as the four of them drew into a circle. All of the wands had disappeared, and people were starting to move away now the show was over.

"Did you find any more…?" Hermione asked eagerly.

"Yes, we found the cup." Harry spoke quietly. "It was in Bellatrix Lestrange's vault in Gringotts. But we lost the sword so we have no way to destroy it."

"How did you lose… wait, Gringotts? How did you get the cup out of there?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, well, we just broke in with Luna pretending to be Bellatrix, imperio'd some goblins, found the cup, and stole a dragon. Nothing really." shared a grin with Ron and Luna.

"You… a dragon? What…?"

There was a clunk as the front door closed, and the room went silent around them. They turned to see what was going on and found Ginny making her way across the room.

"Ginny, what is it?" Neville called out.

"It's Harry… he's been seen… HARRY!" she cried stopping in her tracks as her eyes fell on the four of them. "Snape knows Harry's been seen in Hogsmeade. He's calling a meeting in the Great Hall. The whole school are being woken up now…"

"What are we going to do, then, Harry?" asked Seamus. "What's the plan?"

"No, Harry. We should be looking for the horcruxes, not confronting Snape. He's not… We can deal with him later. This is more important. We have time to search while everyone is in the Great Hall"

"No, Hermione, I'm doing this first. Either help me or start looking without me. It's up to you. There are enough of the Order here now, and plenty of others to come with me if you don't want to. It's time to get rid of the traitorous bastard once and for all."

"We'll go with you mate. We should stick together."

"I still think we should be…"

"Luna, pass me the bag. I need my cloak."

"What for?"

"My bag! You found it?"

"Yeah and a good thing too. We wouldn't have managed without it. No food, no tent, nothing. Saw you drop it as we were running, and went back later to see if the Snatchers had missed it. Lucky for us…"

"Harry, what are you planning?"

"I'm going to sneak in with the other students and confront him. You guys wait outside with the Order and surprise him. See if the twins have any of their extendable ears so you know when to come in. Between all of us we should be able to deal with Snape and the other two."

"Please Harry, I don't like this. Surely there are better things to do than…

"I've made up my mind, Hermione. Vol…. _He_ knows we're here already, and he knows what we're after. This is where we're going to end up fighting… here in the castle. We need to get rid of any threats inside the castle, and I've been waiting all year to get that traitor back for murdering Dumbledore."

"Harry, you're not thinking of trying to kill him are you. You don't want to…"

"He deserves to die. I hope he does, and I want to be the one to do it."

"But, Harry…."

"We need to go now. No, Hermione. I am not going to change my mind. Kingsley, is everyone ready?"

* * *

_What now? This is a ridiculous time to be pulling students out of bed. What in Circe's name are you doing, Severus?_

Minerva stood at the side of the Hall, watching the students file in silently, their heads down, cowed into submission from months of brutality, presided over by the two creatures standing on the dais at the front. Her mouth tightened in distaste as she saw how not a single student dared lift their eyes off the floor to peek at Snape as he strode down the centre of the hall, his long robes billowing behind him.

He climbed the steps and spun to face the students, his countenance dark and surly. He looked older and more tired that Minerva had ever seen him, his face deathly pale against the black of his hair and robes. He seemed almost more tortured than the rest of the souls in the hall put together. _Oh Severus, what is this doing to you? Damn Albus for putting you in this position._

"Many of you are surely wondering why I have summoned you at this hour. It's come to my attention that earlier this evening… Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade."

Minerva had to stifle a gasp. _Potter, what was the foolish child doing here?_ The students did less well at controlling themselves, exclaiming and whispering to each other excitedly, before being cut off by Snape as he continued.

"Now, should anyone… student or staff attempt to aid Mr Potter, they will be punished in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgressions, furthermore…. any person found to have knowledge of these events… who fails to come forward… will be treated as… equally guilty.

Snape began to walk forward, prowling down the space between the lines of students, watching them as if he could read the guilt on their faces. "Now then… if anyone in here has any knowledge of Mr Potter's movements this evening I invite then to step forward… Now!"

The words were growled out slowly and menacingly, enunciated in such a way to provide maximum effect. Watching the performance, Minerva was yet again amazed at Snape's acting ability, although by now she knew she shouldn't be so surprised. After all, he'd been pulling the wool over everyone's eyes for almost 18 years, working for Albus and risking his life for everyone's benefit. And where had it got him? Friendless, with huge numbers of people, who, if they wouldn't be capable of killing him themselves, wouldn't be sad to see him dead.

Minerva felt horrified at the thought. He'd spent half his life doing the bidding of either Voldemort or Albus, and had never had the chance to live how he wished. She hoped that one day people would know and appreciate the many sacrifices this man had made to protect them. She only hoped he would survive to see that day. Minerva almost felt bad about telling him to stop encouraging Granger, as it was clear the man felt something for her, and Merlin knew he deserved some care and affection, but she had to do what she felt was best for the girl.

Suddenly a murmuring ran through the lines of students, spreading outward from a point near the back, and she strained to see what had caused it. Upon seeing who it was, Minerva did gasp. _Potter… you foolish child, what are you doing here?_ She grasped her wand, realising the situation had just turned exceedingly dangerous. Snape would surely be forced to fight or capture the boy. Between the students, the Order and the Carrows, there were too many witnesses, and he still needed to appear to be on Voldemort's side.

"It seems despite your exhaustive defensive strategies you still have a bit of a security problem, Headmaster… I'm afraid it's quite exhaustive."

The main doors to the Hall were flung open, and members of the Order were suddenly streaming through, accompanied by the many students who had been hiding from the Carrows in the Room of Requirement. _Is that… Granger? How did she get here? Does Severus know? More importantly, how much does she remember?_ Minerva's glanced back at Snape for a moment, and she caught the flicker of uncertainty cross his face as he watched Potter.

"How dare you stand where he stood? Tell them how it happened that night."

Minerva looked back at the girl, who was hiding near the back of the group, as if trying not to be seen. Their gazes met, and she raised a questioning eyebrow at her. The girl shook her head slightly, the anxiety clear on her face as she deliberately tilted her head towards Snape, flicking her eyes first at him then at Harry. Obviously she understood enough.

"Tell them how you looked him in the eye… a man who trusted you and killed him… tell them!"

_Oh Severus…_ Minerva's heart almost broke as she saw the pain in Snape's eyes at the boy's words. Although his face stayed impassive she knew him well enough to see that he was holding onto his control by a thread.

Things were coming to a head, and Minerva that if she didn't do something quick all hell was going to break loose. Clearly Potter was itching to attack Snape, and they couldn't afford for that to happen. She knew he didn't want to hurt the boy, but she also knew that Potter's hatred for the murderer of Albus Dumbledore would push him into doing something that would end up in one or the other getting serious hurt.

Snape was now outnumbered. The Carrows were plenty adept at bullying young witches and wizards, but were no match for her or many of the Order members who were now in the room. They would be easily dealt with. Snape was another matter though. Potter may be strong, but Snape was still stronger, and far more experienced. Besides herself, Kingsley was the only one that was remotely capable of defeating him, and there was no way she wanted the two of them to face off. Both were too important to lose. There was only one thing to do. She could only pray that Snape would understand.

Minerva strode out briskly towards Potter, brushing him aside, her wand up and pointed at Snape, and quickly he whipped his out of his sleeve. There was a collective gasp as the students realised what was about to happen and they all scrambled back against the walls. For a few moments she stared into his eyes, willing him to understand what she wanted him to do.

Snape's wand lowered for a moment uncertainly as they faced each other, before it snapped back up again as he seemed to come to some decision. A few moment passed, both of them hesitant to start the fight. Snape's head inclined the slightest fraction and she took it as a sign that he was ready for her to begin. Wordlessly she cast fire at him. It looked showy enough for the students and the others watching, but was easy enough for him to shield against.

Her heart now pounding with adrenaline she cast again and Snape blocked it quickly, although he was managing to make it look as if she was overpowering him with over exaggerated gestures and a grimace on his face. He took a half step backwards and she decided to press the advantage, striding towards him as fire continued to shoot out of her wand toward him.

Flashing his wand from side to side, Snape managed to force her spells to ricochet off towards one Carrow then the other, felling them effortlessly. Minerva could only hope no one had noticed the deliberate movement, or the fact that he wasn't returning any spells. _Come on Severus, apparate away now_ , she thought. _Get out of here!_

But Snape had a trick up his sleeve that she hadn't seen coming. With a final flick of his wand, he seemed to whip his robes around him, and then suddenly he was flying backwards through the air. The recently repaired glass of the window behind him smashed once again, and he was gone.

"Coward!" she screamed as he fled, fully intent on making the deception as convincing as possible, and praying that no one had realised that Snape was a far more capable wizard than the duel had made him seem to be. Behind her the students all screamed with delight, and she turned to face them, lighting the dark cauldrons around the walls with a quick wave of her wand. Luckily none of them seemed to notice that something was amiss.

Spotting Potter in the crowd she quickly made her way towards him, intending to find out the reason why he had returned to Hogwarts. Most likely it was something to do with the rumours she had heard of his breaking into Gringotts earlier in the day. Perhaps he had found a horcrux and was now coming for the remaining one. She also needed to work out how much the girl knew. Hopefully Snape had released her from his rooms on purpose and had returned her memories. Merlin knew Potter could do with all the help he could get, for surely Voldemort would be on his way to the castle by now, and Granger might be their only chance of defeating him.


	46. Chapter 46

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Just a quick note to let you know I'm picking and choosing between the book and the film to make my story flow as best I can. There are occasional parts of the dialogue in theis chapter taken from The Deathly Hallows.

* * *

The relief Hermione had felt as Snape had escaped the Hall had been palpable, although she was still so unsure of his motives to question why she had felt that strongly. Now though, she needed to push all thoughts of him aside and concentrate on the task at hand. A while ago the entire school had heard as Voldemort asked them to give him Harry before midnight, or he would attack. That gave them very little time to find the last horcrux, besides the snake anyway. And how exactly was she supposed to tell Harry that he had to die?

She raced up a staircase behind Harry, Ron and Luna following close behind. She had a suspicion of where he was headed, but she wanted to be sure.

"Harry," she called. "What's the plan? Where are we going?"

Harry leapt up to the next landing before stopping and waiting for the rest to catch up.

"Room of Requirement. It was on that note from McGonagall, and I can't think of anywhere else it might be."

"What we looking for though?" asked Ron.

Harry looking troubled for a moment, "I'm not sure but like in Gringotts, I could kind of… feel where the cup was… maybe I'll be able to feel one if it's in there.

"But Harry, that was only a small room. Didn't you say, when you left your book in the Room of Requirement last year, that it was huge? How are we supposed to even start looking if we don't know what we're looking for?"

"Actually, I think I might know." They all looked at her expectantly. "Well, the cup belonged to Hufflepuff, and the Locket to Slytherin. That leaves Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. The only thing I can think of that is associated with Gryffindor is the sword, and we know that's not one."

"That leaves Ravenclaw then…" said Ron.

"The only thing I've been able to find connected with Rowena Ravenclaw is…"

"…the lost diadem," said Luna, her eyes focused for once.

"Only problem is that no one's seen it for centuries," continued Hermione.

"Sorry, but what's a diadem?" asked Ron.

Hermione turned to look at him, rolling her eyes as she opened her mouth to answer, but Luna got there first, slipping her hand into his and squeezing it. "It's like a crown. It's supposed to have magical properties, such as enhancing the wisdom of the wearer. Daddy's trying to replicate it."

Ron looked down at their conjoined hands for a moment, before looking at Hermione guiltily. His crooked smile almost seemed to be asking her for permission, and she was shocked to realise that she only felt a slight twinge at seeing the two of them holding hands. She wondered for a moment about when exactly had she given up on the two of them, before remembering that she had barely thought about Ron for weeks. Surely if their relationship was important to her she might have spent some time while she was bored thinking about him. It galled her to realise that she'd barely missed him or Harry in all that time.

Hermione thought about what she had gone through with Snape, both forced and willing, and her confused feelings for the man, and she found that she felt no guilt over what had transpired. Not that she should feel responsible for the abuse she had suffered at first, but after a while she had chosen to sleep with him instead of continuing to fight him, and she felt no remorse for being unfaithful to Ron. _Not that there were ever any promises made between us._ Hermione frowned. There was something wrong with that whole picture, but she wasn't sure quite what. She tuned back in to the conversation that was continuing without her.

"But how are we going to destroy the cup and the diadem, if that _is_ the last one?" said Harry. "We lost the sword in Gringotts," he told Hermione gloomily. "The Goblin took it, and who knows when it's going to appear again."

"I still don't understand how we found it the first time," muttered Ron. "Someone obviously put it there for us to find, although I can't figure out how they found us." His eyes sharpened on Hermione suddenly. "Hang on, the same doe found us at Bill and Fleur's house. You must know whose patronus it was then, Hermione."

She only looked between the two boys in confusion. What were they talking about?

Harry's eyes turned suspicious. "But isn't McGonagall's Patronus a cat? he asked.

"Yes, I think so, why?" she replied.

"So whose was the doe patronus?"

"The doe? You mean the one you saw when you found the sword? Why should I know? I never saw it."

Harry looked back at her sceptically. "Sure you did, that night at Shell Cottage. You said McGonagall's been helping you, but it wasn't her patronus we saw on the beach, it was the same doe that helped me from the sword. You even said so yourself."

"Shell…? I errrr…" She racked her brain for the memory, but of course it was missing. Damn Snape for not giving her all her memories back. Shell Cottage? Where in Merlin's name was that? Both the boys were watching her with traces of suspicion in their faces, although Luna looked just as dreamy as usual.

Belatedly she remembered what Snape had told her about going to take information to Harry. It must have been him that send the doe. The realisation that he was capable of creating a full patronus made something inside her swell. If he was capable of that there was obviously some good in him. It was an irrational thought, considering the faith she had already had to place in him, but knowing it made her feel… warm. It also meant that he had given them the sword. What else had he done to help them?

"You obviously know what I'm talking about," Harry said. "I can see it in your face. What aren't you telling us, Hermione?"

"I'm sorry Harry, Ron," she whispered remorsefully. "I just can't… I…." She trailed off as an idea occurred to her. "How many of the staff here can cast a patronus, do you think?" she asked with a pointed look."

"Why does that matter?" said Ron.

"She means it belongs to another member of staff," said Luna airily.

Harry opened his mouth to speak again, but Luna forestalled him. "It must be hard, not being able to tell your friends what happened. I don't think you would have agreed to take a vow if it could hurt anyone." She turned her eyes on Ron. "You have an idea of how to destroy the cup, don't you?"

Ron gaped at the quick change of subject for a moment before looking back up at the other two. "Uh, yeah, well I was thinking about how the other horcruxes were destroyed. We knew the only reason the sword could destroy them was because it had been used to kill…"

"... the basilisk!" shouted Harry excitedly. "Genius, Ron! We just need to get down to the Chamber of Secrets and get more of the fangs." He grinned excitedly at Hermione who returned his smile.

"I think we should split up. If I go down to the Chamber you guys can start looking for the diadem," replied Ron.

"Luna, do you have any idea where it might be, or even what it looks like? The Room of Requirement is a great idea, but what if it's somewhere else?" said Harry.

"No one has seen it in living memory, be but if you want to know what it looks like, there is a statue of Ravenclaw in our common room.

"It's a start, although…" he trailed off, looking thoughtful, before muttering something under his breath. "Hang on, you said, 'No one's seen it in living memory'…. Luna, who's the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower?"

"The Grey Lady, of course," she answered.

"Harry, that's brilliant," Hermione breathed. If there was anyone that knew, then surely it would be Ravenclaw house's ghost.

"Luna, can you take me to your common room. Hermione, go with Ron to the Chamber. Meet back at the Room of Requirement as soon as you're done. Here…" he scrabbled in Hermione's bag that was still hanging from Luna's shoulder, pulling out a small silver cup. "Take this." He tossed it at Ron before suddenly stumbling, his eyes going unfocused for a moment. When he shook it off he looked worried. He'd obviously seen into Voldemort's head again. "Come on, we've got to hurry. There's not much time left. He's coming now!"

He turned and started to run up the stairs. Luna looked at Ron to give him a dreamy smile before dropping his hand and taking off after Harry. Hermione and Ron stood for a few moments, unable to quite meet each other's eyes.

Ron was the first to break the awkward silence as he sighed. "We'd better go. Harry needs us."

 

 

* * *

 

Hermione stared down at the cup lying almost innocently on the floor.

"Go on," prodded Ron behind her.

She grasped the basilisk fang tighter in her fist and reluctantly knelt beside the cup, her jeans soaking thought at the knees immediately. She lifted the fang.

**_He doesn't want you. See how he pushed you away. He used you and then threw you away when he got what he wanted. No one wants you, not even your best friend. See how long it took him to forget you._ **

Her heart seemed to freeze in her chest and she found it hard to breathe. It was right. Snape didn't want her, and even Ron had found someone new. She was unlovable. No one could ever want her.

**_You can have him. I can make him want you. All you must do it take me, keep me safe. All you want will be yours._ **

The hand holding the fang began to shake. There seemed to be a loud wind rushing past her ears, and behind her she could just about make out somebody yelling, although she couldn't hear the words. The voice from the cup was so compelling, she wanted to believe it, needed to believe.

Could she? Could she have him? She longed for his touch so badly that she could almost see him in front of her. The past few weeks had been hell as he ignored her. She wanted him so badly, wanted to treat him how he had treated her, and then force him to perform to her every whim, beat him, torture him until he begged for her love, and then she would take her pleasure as she wished.

_No…._ Another voice whispered faintly. _It's wrong. You can't force someone to want you. The cup needs to be destroyed. It will never keep its promises. Do it! NOW!_

She prepared to bring the fang down.

**_"You'll never have him if you destroy me. No one will ever want you. I can give you everything. Anything you could ever wish for… riches, power…_ **

The voice from the cup had seemed to take on a hint of desperation. For what seemed like forever to her she hovered on the edge of her decision.

**_love…_ **

"No!" she screamed, bringing the fang down hard. As it pierced the cup there was a terrible scream that seemed to reach right down into her soul and rip her apart. The cup skittered away and the water in the pools along the side of the room swelled and lifted. A hand at the back of her shirt suddenly dragged her to her feet, and as a column of water rose in to the air before them, Ron's hand slipped into hers and tugged. They both ran, looking over their shoulder as a wall of water moved towards them, the furious screaming face of Voldemort clearly defined, its eyes fixed on them.

The wave reached them and just as she thought they were going to be swept away it dissipated, the water drenching them as it crashed to the floor and she gasped with the cold. It leeched away back into the pools and within moments the room was exactly as it had been a minute before, except for the battered and broken cup that lay on the stones in front of them.

_We did it_ , she crowed exultantly in her head, looking over at Ron who was wearing a grin similar to the one she was sure was on her own face. The slight uneasiness she had been feeling around her friends had vanished in the wake of what they had just achieved, and she found herself flying at Ron and wrapping herself around him before bursting into tears.

There was only the barest hesitation before he enfolded her in his arms ad held her as she cried herself out. When she had calmed down she pushed herself back a bit and could smile up sheepishly at him.

"Blimey, Hermione. What was all that for?" was all he could say.

Hermione just shook her head and looked down again. She wasn't quite sure herself, although she felt a lot better for letting it all out. She used a sleeve to wipe at her face, before slipping her arm back under his again and resting her cheek on his chest with a sigh.

"Thanks, "she whispered.

"For what?"

She shrugged. "Just for being here I guess. I missed you both so much."

"Hermione…" he sounded uneasy.

"Hmmm?"

"…when they… when they took you…"

She tensed, her fingers digging into his think jumper as she waited for him to finish his sentence.

"…what did they do to you? Did they hurt you?"

The slightest nod was all she could manage, and it was enough for his arms to tighten protectively around her.

"Who?" he asked angrily

"Vol… you know… he…" She bit her lip when she couldn't continue. The memory of the repeated Cruciatus curse he had cast at her made her shake with horror. Why was it all starting to feel more real now?

"Fucking hell, Mione, you actually saw the slimy bastard?"

"Yes," She choked out, cringing at the recollection. The image of his bending over her as he cursed her seemed so vivid that her stomach clenched with remembered pain.

"What about Snape? You said he brought you to the castle. Did he hurt you?"

The horrible memories receded as her mind raced for a way for her to take his mind off Snape. As much as she needed to make sure they didn't suspect the truth yet, she didn't want them to think worse of him than they already did. He did need Harry to be willing to speak to him without hexing first. She pulled up her sleeve, baring the horrible scars that had been cut into her arm.

Ron was actually speechless for a moment before he exploded. "I'm going to kill the bastard. How could he… it's not like he's pure…"

"No, Ron!" Hermione grabbed him by the sleeve as he made towards the exit and turned him round to face her. "It wasn't him."

"Then who?" he snapped, his eyes blazing with fury."

"If I tell you, you have to promise not to go running off and get yourself killed. It happened weeks ago, and it's healed now."

"Healed? It's still red and sore! How can it have been weeks ago? It looks like it happened yesterday."

"It was done with a blade steeped in dark magic. It's healed as well as it's going to." She looked down to try and hide the tears that pricked at the corners of her eyes.

Ron gripped her by the elbows. "Who did it to you Hermione?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.

"You've got to promise, Ron, Please. We need to help Harry, not go chasing off to get revenge." When he looked like he was going to refuse she lifted a hand to his cheek. "Please, Ron," she pleaded gently.

After a moment his dark expression seemed to lift slightly. "Ok, Ok, Hermione. I promise. Now, tell me who did it?"

She sighed. "Bellatrix Lestrange."

"That bitch. I'm gonna kill her…"

"Ron, you promised." She held onto him as if he were about to chase off after the woman.

"I know, I know. It's just… I hate that she hurt you and got away with it." He looked down at her as she looked up, and for a moment they gazed into each other's eyes.

They both seemed to realise how close they were still standing at the same time, and both quickly disentangled themselves, colour rising to their cheeks as they stepped back. There was an awkward silence that Hermione sought to fill with the first thing that came into her head.

"So… Luna…?" For a moment Ron looked like a child who had been caught with his fingers in the biscuit jar, but he soon dissolved into a sheepish grin as he realised Hermione wasn't upset with him. He scrubbed his hand through his hair bashfully.

"Yeah… ummm, well, nothing's happened really. I know she'd a bit odd, but she's been bloody brilliant really. I've not said anything to her yet, but… well maybe after…" he trailed off for a second. "We wouldn't have managed to get the cup without her," he said with a fake brightness. Then he spotted the expression on Hermione's face. "Not that we could have done it without you either, Mione. You know that. We'd probably have been caught the first day if we'd not had you."

Her chest tightened slightly, but she was surprised at how little it hurt to hear his words. "It's ok, Ron. I understand. I'm just thankful she was there to stop yourselves getting into too much trouble without me."

"No one can replace you, Hermione. You know that. Come 'ere…" He grabbed her again and gave her a big bear hug. "We were so worried. You can't believe how awful we felt for letting you get taken like that. Harry was furious with himself for days after. We barely got anything done for ages…. I'm so glad you're ok."

She smiled up at him, glad that they'd had a moment to themselves, and content with the way things were working out. She couldn't lie to herself and say it didn't hurt at all to see Ron with someone else, but she'd changed over the past weeks, and no longer could see herself entering into a relationship with the redhead. She was just happy that their friendship hadn't been destroyed over it.

She looked up at him. "Talking about getting things done, isn't it time we met Harry? Come on…"


	47. Chapter 47

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1 Some of this chapter is taken from Deathly Hallows.

  


* * *

Hermione raced down the slope, her heart pounding from more than just the exercise. Above and behind her the battle was being fought fiercely. The constant stream of curses and hexes lit up the path in a dull, flickering light. She hated the thought that her friends and schoolmates, members of the Order were fighting and dying up there. The Death-Eaters had been well into the castle when they had snuck out.

Up ahead she could see the Whomping Willow, its branches swinging angrily as if itching to join in the fight going on up by the castle. By the time she pulled up just outside of its reach, Ron had already found a long stick and was using it to prod the small knot on the roots. With a sigh the willow went quiet, its quivering branched slumping down to hand listlessly round the trunk.

"Come on. Ron you come last. Keep a lookout behind you. Luna and Hermione in the middle." Harry quickly made for the small opening and the two girls shared a smile. Hermione rolled her eyes at his retreating back. _Boys…_

Hermione crawled into the tunnel, Luna behind her. She couldn't remember it being so small, but then again the last time she had come down here she was a lot smaller. There was more than enough light from Harry's wand to light her way, although she heard Luna whispering the same charm behind her. The silence in the tunnel was only broken by the sound of hands and knees scraping against the floor and distant booms resonating through the earth.

She winced at one loud rumble that seemed to go on for ever. That had surely been some part of the ancient castle falling. She couldn't imagine anything else being able to make so much noise. The idea that Hogwarts was being destroyed over their heads was heart-breaking. She wondered for what seemed the hundredth time how much damage had been done to the Room of Requirement. The fiendfyre had consumed everything that had been hidden in there, but was the room itself broken beyond repair?

At least they had managed to find the horcrux before Malfoy and his goons had found them. Its destruction in the fiendfyre meant they only had the snake and Voldemort himself to destroy. …and Harry too. She pushed that thought away for the moment.

They knew that Nagini was in the Shrieking Shack with Voldemort since Harry had been able to look inside Voldemort's head to find out. That was how they knew Snape should be on his way there too. Harry had seen Voldemort ordering Lucius Malfoy to fetch him. Hermione hoped that somehow there might be a chance for Snape to speak to Harry. She wasn't sure how she would persuade Harry not to try and hex him, but she was prepared to jump when any opportunity presented itself.

The tunnel had not begun to slope upwards, and when she realised that she could see more clearly than the light from Harry's wand should allow she grabbed Harry's ankle.

"Turn out the light Harry!"

He paused a moment before whispering "Nox." Hermione heard Luna behind her do the same, and after a moment they began to move forward again, more slowly this time, taking care to be as quiet as possible.

Slowly she became aware of a murmuring sound, and as they got closer to the end of the tunnel she realised it was voices coming from the room up ahead. A few moments later Harry crawled out of the tunnel, and Hermione followed silently behind him. She barely aware of Luna and Ron exiting after her, her focus instead on the owner of one of those voices; Snape.

She crept forwards, Harry beside her, and crouched behind a large wooden box next to a filthy window. She could just make out shapes moving through the glass, and from the way Harry grabbed her arm and motioned for her to stay still, she assumed he had seen them too. She could make out the silhouettes of two people, and through a slightly less grimy spot she could just about see through to make out something writhing and shimmering up in the air. It took a few moments to realise she was looking at the Snape in some sort of protecting bubble.

The conversation now became clear to her. "…my Lord, their resistance is crumbling…"

"…and it is doing do without your help," hissed the voice she now knew too well. "Skilled wizards thought you are, Severus, I do not think you will make much difference now. We are almost there… almost. Have you sent the girl to complete her task?"

"Yes, my Lord, but I believe the best way to ensure your victory is for me to find the boy. Let me bring Potter. I know I can find him, my Lord. Please."

Hermione felt Harry stiffening beside her. She squeezed his arm reassuringly, understanding where he could not that Snape only wanted to find him to help. She prayed that the two dark wizards would say nothing more to incriminate her, and that Harry wouldn't catch on to what had already been said.

One of the shadows on the glass moved. She could tell from the shape that it was Voldemort, pacing slowly around Snape.

"I have a problem, Severus."

"My Lord," said Snape.

The shape moved again. "Why doesn't it work for me, Severus?"

Harry looked at her questioningly, but she could only shake her head. She didn't know what he was talking about either.

"My – my Lord? I do not understand. You – you have performed extraordinary magic with that wand."

Understanding bloomed in Hermione's mind, but she was more concerned by the tone in which Snape had spoken. He sounded worried, unsure. She bit her lips as she strained to make out more through the glass.

"No, I have performed my usual magic. I am extraordinary but this wand… no. It has not revealed the wonders it has promised. I feel no difference between this wand and the one I procured from Ollivander all those years ago."

Hermione's stomach contracted with fear. Something in the way Voldemort was speaking made her feel nervous for Snape, although she wasn't sure why. Beside her Harry shifted and rubbed at his scar, grimacing in pain. Her worry grew. His scar usually hurt when Voldemort was feeling particularly angry or emotional. Something was wrong… but what?

"No difference," she heard Voldemort say again. There was no reply from Snape, but she could see his silhouette stay motionless while Voldemort prowled slowly around him.

"I have thought long and hard, Severus… do you know why I have called you back from the battle?"

"No, my Lord, but I beg you will let me return. Let me find Potter."

"You sound like Lucius. Neither of you understands Potter as I do. He does not need finding. Potter will come to me. I know his weakness, you see, his one great flaw. He will hate watching the others struck down around him, knowing that it is for him that it happens. He will want to stop it at any cost. He will come."

"But my Lord, he might be killed accidentally by one other than yourself…" There was a touch of desperation in his voice now.

"My instructions to my Death Eaters have been perfectly clear. Capture Potter. Kill his friends – the more, the better – but do not kill him. But it is of you that I wished to speak, Severus, not Harry Potter. You have been very valuable to me. Very valuable."

"My Lord knows I seek only to serve him. But… let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can…"

"I have told you, no! My concern at the moment, Severus, is what will happen when I finally meet the boy!"

"My Lord, there can be no question, surely…?"

"But there is a question, Severus. There is. Why did both wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?"

Hermione could barely breathe, one half terrified beyond belief and the other eagerly lapping up all she could hear.

"I… I cannot answer that, my Lord."

"Can't you."

Besides her Harry twitched violently, and stuffed his fist into his mouth. Hermione reached forwards and wrapped her arm around Harry as he shook, his eyes closed. She could see through the glass more clearly from this position. She could just make out Voldemort through a cleaner patch, Dumbledore's wand in his hand, although his face was turned from her. She moved so she could see Snape through the same hole. His face was in profile, and seemingly paler and more drawn that ever before. She'd also never seen him look so apprehensive, although she could tell he was fighting hard to keep any emotion from his face. She froze, her eyes locked onto his face, barely able to breathe as the conversation continued.

"My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

Hermione listened intently. The subject was one which the three of them had discussed many times over. Maybe she would hear something that would help her to work out why Harry's wand had seemingly protected him by itself.

"I… I have no explanation, my Lord."

"I sought a third wand, Severus. The Elder Wand, the Wand of Destiny, the Deathstick."

Hermione had to stifle a gasp, her mind whirling. It all made sense now. Dumbledore must have taken the wand from Grindelwald when he defeated him. No wonder Voldemort had taken it.

"I took it from its previous master. I took it from the grave of Albus Dumbledore."

Snape's face seemed to go even paler, if that were possible. "My Lord… let me go to the boy…"

"All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here, wondering, wondering, why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner… and I think I have the answer."

Hermione went rigid as she realised what was about to happen. Snape had killed Dumbledore, and now Voldemort was going to do the same to him. Surely Snape wasn't going to stand there and let it happen. If she had figured it out, surely he must have by now.

Voldemort continued. "Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."

"My Lord…"

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine."

"My Lord!" Hermione watched as Voldemort raised his wand, and had to put her hand over her mouth to stop from crying out in fear.

"It cannot be any other way. I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

 

 

* * *

 

The moment Voldemort apparated away, taking the snake with him, Harry pulled himself up off the floor and raced into the next room with Ron and Luna at his heels. Hermione stayed frozen in place, barely able to process what had just happened.

The glimpse she'd had of Voldemort's face had showed no feeling, no remorse as he'd ordered his snake to kill a man he believed to be one of his most trusted advisors. Snape hadn't made a sound as he fell, but Hermione was sure the sound of his body repeatedly hitting the wall as the snake attacked wasn't going to leave her any time soon. She could just make out Snape's head and shoulders pressed up against the glass.

Hermione couldn't seem to resolve how she felt about Snape, not even now. Should she feel sorry for the man who had raped and tortured her? Or did he deserved to die in such a horrible manner, despite rescuing her from Malfoy Manor. He hadn't been all that bad, not in the end at least. She'd actively encouraged him at one point, and had felt bereft when he'd suddenly withdrawn from her. How had she got to that point? Had he given her some potion, despite his denials? Was she glad he was dead, or was her heart breaking?

She knew she should move and join the others, but she wasn't sure she could deal with looking at his body. He'd needed to speak to Harry. Did this mean she would not be able to explain to her friends what had happened, or was she still bound by the oath she had taken not to reveal anything? Was she going to have to convince Harry to go to his death without explaining everything?

A hysterical bubbled up and she clamped her hand over her mouth to stifle it. Snape had been so worried about being exposed for helping her, especially before he'd had the chance to talk to Harry, and in the end he'd died because of a bloody wand, never getting the chance to speak to Harry anyway. Oh the irony of it all. He'd been so worried about being exposed she wouldn't even be able to tell anyone what he'd done for her, unless somehow they managed to kill Voldemort. Unless… perhaps if he was dead, the vow would no longer stop her.

Mere moments had passed since her friends had gone into the next room, and through the glass she could see Harry bend over Snape, reaching down to something at his neck. _Don't touch him!_ Feeling suddenly possessive she got up and followed her friends into the next room, moving far enough round so she could see over Harry's shoulder.

She gasped in horror at the sight before her, her hands flying to her mouth. Blood was gushing from Snape's neck, and Harry seemed to be trying to staunch the bleeding with his hands. She was shocked to see that his eyes were still open. _He's not dead!_ She wanted to run to his side, to help him, but she couldn't seem to get her feet to work.

The vow she'd made was stopping her. She'd promised to treat him as her enemy, and apparently that meant she wasn't allowed to try and save his life. He'd asked her to bring Harry to him, but no more, and now he seemed incapable of saying what he'd needed to. She screamed inwardly as she fought to move to his side.

"Take… it… take… it." Snape managed to move his arm just enough to gesture to the glistening liquid that had begun to leak from his eyes. _His memories…_ She stifled a sob as she saw that he'd found a way to tell Harry what he needed to know.

Realising Harry didn't seem to know what to do, she turned to Luna, prepared to ask for a bottle or phial from the bag on her shoulder, but Luna was already scrabbling in the bag. Quickly she found what she was looking for and passed it quickly to Harry. He pressed it to Snape's cheek. Hermione could only watch as Harry collected the memories, putting a bloody thumb over the neck when he had finished. She didn't think Snape had even noticed her yet, he was so intent on Harry's face.

"Look at me…" he croaked with difficulty, the pain on his face clear to everyone watching. Harry turned his face towards Snape's, who seemed to search his face for something.

"You have your mother's eyes…" An almost peaceful look seemed to steal over Snape's face.

There was silence for a moment, then Snape sighed, his head turning slightly. Maybe he caught sight of her, as his eyes widened slightly, and his hand moved as if he was trying to reach for something. But his eyes glazed over and fluttered shut, his hand thumping back down by his side, and his body slumped against the wall.

_Oh Gods, what have I done? How could I just let him lie there and not try to help_? Remorse choked her and she let out a strangled, "We need to go!" before rushing off back to the tunnel unable to stay another moment in his presence.

Not even bothering to light her wand, she began so scramble back down the tunnel. She barely noticed the sound of her friends following, not even realising that the only thing stopping her from banging her head or knocking into the walls was the dim light from someone behind her.

She continuously replied the scene she had just left over and over in her mind, the tears she'd been unable to shed for him earlier now coating her cheeks in the dark. How could she have just watched while the man who had apparently saved and protected her suffered and died? The look in his eyes seemed to be burned into her mind. Had he looked at her in those final moments with such longing because he wanted her to help him? Did he believe she had chosen not to help, or had he understood she was unable to because of that damn vow he had made her take. She wondered if he had been able to appreciate the irony of his death.

Suddenly a voice she recognised all too well reverberated through her, and she crumpled to the floor of the tunnel in shock. It seemed to come from everywhere, and it took a moment for her to realise that Voldemort was not actually there.

"You have fought valiantly," the voice hissed. "Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

Hermione turned to look back down the tunnel at her friends. Harry's face was visible in the light from his wand, his expression worried as he listened. The other two were just dark shadows behind him. Harry's gaze fixed on her as the voice continued.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

The silence that followed the last words seemed deafening, and for a few moment she and Harry stared at each other in dread. Then, all of a sudden, Harry moved, scrambling towards her, and she turned, wanting to get out of the cramped tunnel as quickly as possible.

The cold air outside was a welcome change from the musty dampness under the ground, and she stood for a few moments, sucking it in and trying to control her trembling. She carefully wiped the remains of the tears from her face as the others climbed out behind her. Harry came to stand beside her, looking up at the damaged castle above. It seemed eerily quiet, the castle no longer lit up with the red and green of spells cast, but with a dim orange flicker of fires that were burning unchecked.

"I need to go," Harry said, turning towards her.

"Don't listen to him," said Ron who had just come up on her other side with Luna. "You can't go."

Hermione thought for a moment. Harry had to see those memories first. He needed to understand. "Let's… let's get back to the castle first. We'll think of something."

Without waiting for a reply she set off, still trying desperately to resolve her feelings towards the dead man she had left behind.


	48. Chapter 48

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

 

* * *

Feeling strangely detached Hermione turned away from the scene of grief playing out before her. Intellectually she that it would all hit her at some point, but right now she had far too much taking up her mind as it was. Out of the corner of her eyes she caught sight of Harry slipping quietly out of the hall. She looked round to check for Ron. He was still bent over the still body of his brother, his family encircling them like a wall of shared grief. They didn't need her or anyone else right now. Even Luna had left Ron's side and was talking quietly to Neville, her usually dreamy eyes now sad as she watched the Weasleys try to comfort one another.

They didn't need her, but perhaps Harry did. She knew the knowledge that he would find in Snape's memories would shake him to his core. She needed to be there to help him understand, and in the event that the message was garbled – Snape had been dying after all, who knows what had been going through his mind at that moment – she needed to be there to tell Harry herself.

With one last look around the Hall, she snuck out behind him. He was headed towards the Headmaster's office, she knew, curious to see what had been so important that he had spent his dying moments passing it on to Harry. Maybe she'd imagined the look in his eyes as his gaze had flicked past Harry right at the end? Or was she confusing her own feelings with the agony the dying man was obviously suffering. She still was trying to adjust to the idea that Snape had saved her all those weeks ago at Malfoy Manor, and had been protecting her ever since.

Snape had only given her enough information to carry out her task, but she needed to know more before she could even begin to understand what had been going through for the past six weeks. Everything she believed about Snape had suddenly been turned on its head, and she didn't know what to think. She knew Harry and Ron would be pressing her for more answers soon, and she wasn't ready to explain anything without understanding the situation a lot better herself.

Considering the memories Snape had given her had only taken a moment to replace in her head, she wasn't sure why he had held the rest back from her. Judging by the extensive notes and the many phials on the shelf she'd obviously been allowed a good deal of time to research. She just wasn't sure exactly why a death-eater would allow her to do such a thing. Even Dumbledore had been strangely reticent, only telling her that the information in the note from Minerva was to be trusted, as was Snape.

Hermione caught Harry up at the gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's study. Slipping her hand into his she smiled tremulously up at him as they jumped onto the moving staircase.

"Hermione…" he started uncertainly. "When are you going to tell us where you've been? And how did you managed to find out all that stuff about the horcruxes?"

"Not now, Harry. I'll explain it all soon, I promise," she replied, biting her lip and looking away from his concerned gaze.

Soon the door to the office came into view, and they stepped off the stairs. Harry reached for the doorknob and frowned when it wouldn't turn. He stepped back, pulling out his wand.

"Alohomora!" Nothing happened. He tried the handle again before turning to Hermione in confusion. "Why would he tell me to use the pensieve if I can't get to it?"

"Let me try." She pointed her own wand at the door "Liberare!" Still nothing. "I don't understand…" She grabbed the handle with her free hand, intending to give it a shake, but at her touch, the door sprang open. The two of them looked at each other in astonishment.

"What did you do?"

"I… nothing. I just touched it!"

"But it was locked," Harry said. "Why would it just open like that?" He looked at Hermione suspiciously, but she ignored him on purpose and stepped through into the room. Harry followed her in, before dropping her hand as he walked immediately across to the cupboard holding the pensieve.

Hermione crossed the room and pulled open the cupboard where Snape had left the rest of her memories. The sight of his broken body suddenly flashed across her mind, and for a moment her chest felt so tight she could barely breathe. She felt hollow inside, and for a moment she thought she was going to cry. Leaning against the cupboard door she tried to catch her breath, and soon the pain receded.

She reached out to the first phial, touching it carefully. They were all lined up neatly by date. A hand came down on her shoulder, making her jump, and she squealed, turning to look at Harry who was peering over her shoulder into the cupboard.

"Are those all memories?"

Hermione nodded silently.

"Is there something you need to tell me, Hermione? What are you doing in here anyway? And whose are those memories? Snape's?"

She looked at the floor. "They're all mine," she whispered, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

He twisted her by the shoulder and turned her to face him. "Hermione, what is going on? Where have you been?"

"I… I was here… in the castle, except for when I was taken to Malfoy's house."

"Were you…? Did Snape…? You said you were with McGonagall…" He gripped her arms tighter, unable to get the words out. "Gods Hermione, please tell me Snape didn't… hurt you!"

Hermione knew that now was not the time for the whole truth, not when he was in such an emotional state and certainly not until she had all the facts herself. Not that she seemed able to tell him in any case, the vow still stopped her. She would have to convince him to give it up for now.

"Harry, I'm sorry, but I really can't tell you! I had to take this oath. Something happened… I know something that was important to keep secret from Voldemort. Taking the vow was the right thing to do, you have to trust me on this, Harry."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "And those?" He gestured to the neat row of phials.

"They're mine. I had to make sure I had no memory of doing anything that could get us both into trouble if Voldemort saw it."

"Why are they in here? What was Snape doing…?"

"Please Harry, don't ask me about Snape. I can't tell you about it yes

"How many times did you see him…? Voldemort, I mean."

"A few times." She shuddered in remembrance. Harry asked his mouth to ask another question, but she stopped him. "Please, Harry, let me get my memories back before you ask any more. I don't even understand it all properly myself. Once I know, I'll tell you all the vow will let me…" She trailed off.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, sure." She shrugged. ""I just can't stop thinking about him… Snape, and that disgusting snake. He might not be a nice person, but it was still a horrible way to die." She couldn't stop thinking of the way he had treated her either. Why would he encourage her to lust after him like that, and make him promises of obedience that he and Voldemort could use to manipulate her, if he was good? Nothing seemed to make sense. Least of all her own feelings.

Harry was watching her with a concerned look on his face. She reached up and patted his shoulder. "I'm fine Harry, really. Go on, do what you came up here for."

He frowned down at her, obviously not really believing her, but after a few seconds he nodded. "You need to use the pensieve?"

"No, I know how to put the memories back. It'll be really quick. I'll probably be finished before you." She looked back at the line of phials, chewing her bottom lip nervously.

"Ok, wait for me if you finish first." With a last look at his friend, Harry returned to the pensieve, pulling out the small glass bottle from his pocket and depositing it in the shallow bowl, before lowering his head to the shimmering liquid and disappearing into Snape's memories.

Hermione picked up the first two phials, noting that they both had the same date. They were numbered, so she pulled out the stopper of the one marked with '1', guessing that it had happened earlier than the other. She looked around for somewhere to sit, remembering how shaky she'd been after Snape had helped her to put the other memories back in her head.

She gently touched her wand to the small opening and drew the shimmering strand out. She emptied her mind as Snape had told her, carefully placing the strand against her temple. The prickling sensation started again, and she closed her eyes as dizziness swept through her. Images began to flash in her mind as the memory shifted back into place, and all of a sudden she was pulled back into her past.


	49. Chapter 49

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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(memory)

"So that means…." She trailed off, chewing her lip while she thought. She shook her head. "OK, I think I'm ready for the next memory," she said suddenly. The painting of Dumbledore smiled at her as she approached the pensieve again, a knowing look on his face.

Snape used his wand to retrieve the first memory and place it back in its bottle, and then opened a second and poured it in. "This is mine again, this time recalling the events of your capture last night." Hermione nodded absentmindedly, and quickly disappeared into the depths of the pensieve again.

She saw once again the memories Snape had shown her of the time he had come to her in the dungeons under the Manor, how he had told her he would try to get her out of there, only this time her own emotions almost overwhelmed her… the sheer terror she felt huddling in the dark, waiting to be taken before Voldemort, and to have all her secrets exposed. The relief she had felt at realising she had a chance of hiding their search for the horcruxes, and her tentative trust in Snape.

Hermione emerged from the memory, her legs collapsing underneath her, and she staggered across the floor into the arms of Snape, who had jumped up as soon as he had seen her, and the two of them sank to the floor. Her arms were wrapped tightly around him as she sobbed into his thick robes. Snape moved her gently and fumbled in his pocket for a second, pulling out a bar of chocolate which he offered to her. She took it gratefully and chewed it, still leaning against Snape, who was now starting to look a bit uncomfortable.

Her tears slowed and stopped after a few minutes, and as she turned to look up at Snape she placed her hand on his cheek, stilling his attempt to extradite himself from her tangle of limbs. He looked down at her in astonishment as she whispered a quiet, "Thank you," and flung her arms around his neck once more.

Snape stood up, and pulling out his wand, conjured up two glasses, one of which he offered to Hermione, who was still in a pile on the floor. She took a sniff, and looked up at him surprised. "I thought the events of the day called for something a little stronger than pumpkin juice," Snape shrugged. Hermione didn't reply, but sipped from her glass slowly.

The sound of the clock tower clock striking two was heard distinctly. "I believe that is my cue to offer you some lunch. You have one more trip into the pensieve, and I'm afraid that it is a much longer memory, made up of many different fragments. Please, sit down." Snape gestured to the chair that sat opposite his own at his desk. He waved his wand again, and two steaming plates of food sat there. Hermione wasted no time, half jumping into the seat, and eating with abandon.

Noticing Snape watching her with amusement from the other side of the desk she shrugged, "Can't remember when I last ate. It must have been before I was captured. Is it ok to have seconds?" Snape nodded his assent and pulled another plateful out of the air.

As Hermione began to slow down Snape spoke again. "We still have a few things to discuss regarding the next set of memories, and then we will also have to decide what is to be done with you. You cannot stay here of course." There was a loud noise from the painting behind him, which he tried to ignore, but Hermione piped up.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Miss Granger, Severus knows full well that if you leave Hogwarts it will damage his standing within the ranks of the Death-Eaters, and quite possibly lead to his own death. He is, however, trying to force you to believe it is the only option, and save himself, and you, the humiliation of what must happen."

Snape was furious, his face bright red as he roared, "Albus, don't you dare…"

"My boy, if I truly believed there was any other way…"

Snape didn't hear. His eyes were once again on the small bushy haired figure who had reached out to gently grab his arm. "Professor, please…" she begged. "I can't let you do this. You're too important to waste over me."

Snape sat back down with a thud, his hands pressed firmly over his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Miss Granger, you have no idea what you are asking. What will be in store for you if you stay?"

"Then tell me, I am more than capable of making my own decisions."

"You really want to know… fine then." He jumped to his feet and started pacing. "The Dark Lord expects his loyal followers to treat the…toys… he has given them a certain way. They are treated worse than slaves, forced to endure the Cruciatus curse if they displease in any way, tortured…" he turned to look her in the eye. "…raped, and eventually murdered." She swallowed hard, her eyes wide.

"I cannot teach you the art of Occlumency well enough to convince the Dark Lord, who will want to read your mind to see just what I have subjected you to. He enjoys watching the perversions of his followers from the minds of those they abuse. He paused, watching for her reaction, and she struggled to keep her face as blank as possible.

"The latest we will be called back to him will be at the end of this week. He wants a report on how I am doing with breaking open your mind for the information he desires on Potter. He will look into your mind as well as mine, and if he believes that I have not treated you in the way that I should have, as someone loyal to his cause and beliefs, if he suspects me in the slightest of helping you or Potter, he will torture us and kill us both." Hermione had to look away, his eyes were so intense as he sought to make her understand.

"If you stay, the only chance we have is to store your memories once again, and I will have to obliviate all traces of what has been seen and discussed. I will then have to use you and beat you, so you will believe that I am what the Dark Lords needs to see. You will hate me for it, and then you will be forced to kneel at his feet while he trawls through these degrading moments, and listen to me laugh and brag about how I fucked you… Potter's mudblood whore… and enjoyed it."

He sneered at her as he continued. "I do not wish for this. I have done enough wrong to innocents in the course of keeping my life as a double agent secret. I am not sure it would not be better for you to just die and leave the fight to others rather than go through what Albus is suggesting."

Hermione sat with her head bowed for a moment, Snape's words running through her head. The man had sacrificed so much to keep others safe. She couldn't pretend to herself she liked the thought of what would happen to her if she decided to stay, but it seemed to be the only way. _And isn't it about time someone did something to keep him safe?_

"I'll do it"

"Well done, my dear, I knew you would understand the importance of this," said Dumbledore gently.

Snape rounded on the portrait again. "You stay out of this, you meddlesome old bastard," he seethed. There were indignant murmurs from the portraits around the room, all of whom had long also stopped pretending to be sleeping, and had been watching the proceedings with interest.

Snape then turned on Hermione, grabbing her arm and dragging her up the steps, past the real Hermione, back into the hall leading to his room. She cried out in pain as she stumbled and hit her knee. "Quiet, girl," Snape snarled at her, pushing her into his bedroom, where he flung the memory down onto the bed and started pulling at the teaching robes covering her. "Please," she sobbed. "No!"

Snape didn't stop. "You wanted this," he growled at her. "You agreed to do this, remember? Have you changed your mind?"

By now he'd managed to pull the robes off her shoulders, and she began to sob as she fought to pull them back up. Eventually Snape stilled, his body pressed over hers, pinning her to the bed. She continued to last out at him and he tried to catch her hands and quieten her. She was too terrified to realise he had stop trying to undo her clothes, and still thrashed around under him.

"Shh, it's ok. I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanted you to understand what you are agreeing to. Please, Hermione, please stop." He rolled off her, trying to give her some space so she would realise he wasn't attacking her anymore.

The sound of her name on his lips made her still suddenly, and she clutched the robes to her chest before rolling away from him and sobbing quietly.

"Do you still wish to go ahead, even now?" he asked almost tenderly, pulling the material up over her shoulder. Suddenly she turned over with a whimper, and buried her face in his shoulder as she shuddered. After a moment he wrapped his arms around her awkwardly.

There was a pause, before a muffled, "Yes, I'll do it," was heard. Snape pulled her head out of the crook of his neck and looked at her in astonishment. "Are you sure, really sure? You don't need to do this, not for me. It's too much to ask." The worry in his voice seemed strange to her. He'd never spoken so gently to her in all the time she'd known him.

"Yes, I'm sure," she said, stronger this time. "You surprised me just now. I felt… well safe... maybe for the first time in weeks, and then…"

"It's not going to get any better, you do realise that. You aren't going to have the chance to feel safe if you do this. I will have to go all the way, no matter how much you beg me not to."

Embarrassment at what he was saying course through her, and her cheeks heated up at the thought of sex with him. She couldn't meet his eye as she spoke. "I think… I… well, once I go back to thinking I can't trust you, that you're just a vile Death-Eater…" She bit her lip and closed her eyes, grimacing. …well, to be honest, I'm surprised it didn't happen already. At that house… when Malfoy came for me, I thought he was going to… you know. And then Pettigrew…" she shuddered in revulsion as she remember the way his greedy little pig eyes had ogled her. "Well, anyway, I don't think you could be worse than them if you tried, and it's not like I won't expect it to happen. You took me by surprise just now, I guess." She finally looked up at him, trying to smile confidently through the remnants of her tears.

"Bloody Gryffindors!" Snape grumped. "Too bloody noble for your own good." She smirked at what was obviously an attempt to lighten the mood.

"You need to understand," he continued seriously, "I want to do this as little as you do. But before I do, I want…" He pulled away from her, sitting up and rubbing his face tiredly. "Oh Gods, will you ever be able to forgive me for what I will have to do?"

Hermione felt scared, but determined at his words. "I forgive you," she said. "And I will again, I'm sure of it. I choose this way. I got myself caught, put Harry and you in danger. It should be me that pays the price. I have to try and make things better, whatever the cost." She was confident that in the future she would understand why he had treated her badly, once she was able to remember what had happened. She crawled up to kneel beside him, trying to convey the confidence she did not feel.

Snape looked carefully into her eyes, seeing the strength of her resolve, and gave up trying to change her mind. "If there is anything I can do to make your time here easier, but that won't raise suspicions, please… you only need to ask."

Hermione thought for a moment. "Perhaps… is there a potion that might help to dull pain? Emotional pain I mean. Physical pain only lasts so long, but I know that… rape victims… people who have been abused… it can affect them for a long time after. If I can't feel it so much, it may help to get me through my time here. I don't know how you can give it to me without V-v… him seeing, but if you can…"

He interrupted her monologue with a hand on her arm. "I know of a potion I can give you. It is similar in some ways to various recreational drugs, and it should help you to detach yourself somewhat from what will happen. But I cannot risk giving you a strong enough dose to stop you feeling completely. You will be expected to come back before the Dark Lord. He will be able to sense your feelings clearly if he reads your mind. He will notice if you are unaffected by your time with me, or if you are less than utterly terrified by him. It is not much, but I cannot risk doing more"

"I understand. Anything is better than nothing." She looked down at her fingers which were picking nervously at the fabric of her robes as she thought of something else. "I… I have another favour…"

"Yes?"

"I… ummm… It doesn't matter," she stuttered nervously. How on earth was she to ask such a thing of him? She was sure her face was bright red once again.

"Ask me later," Snape said gently. "I'll do anything I can to make this better for you."

Hermione looked at him, her eyes wide, and nodded silently.

"Now, I think we need to get back to our task," Snape said. "Are you ready?"

"Ready," she repeated quietly. She was still feeling slightly shocked by what had just happened. First Snape had almost raped her, then he had been so kind and tender. Suddenly, she was very unsure of just how much she really knew about him. Everything he had done and said in the last half an hour pointed to there being someone very different behind the cold exterior that was presented to the world on a daily basis. He had done his utmost to persuade her to leave, despite the danger to himself. She felt herself swell with some strange emotion as she realised how much he had been through in order to protect his true allegiance.

In the few moments she had taken to think, Snape had stood up and was now waiting by the door for her.

"Do you plan to make me wait all day, Miss Granger?"

"No, no, I'm coming," she replied quickly, jumping up as she tried to hide a smile. Whoever he really was behind the bluff exterior, she was sure he would never lose his snarkiness.

Once they were back in the Headmaster's Office, Snape went to prepare the pensieve, while Dumbledore warned her quietly that these memories, being her own of the last few months spent with Harry and Ron, were not to be talked about in front of Snape.

Hermione spent much longer in the pensieve this time, watching months of her life, and when she reappeared out of the pensieve she was exhausted, but nothing like as emotional as she had been upon her previous exit. She took the chocolate Snape thrust at her and went again to talk to Dumbledore.

"Well Miss Granger? Have you had any success with your task?"

"Yes, Professor, but not much." Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "We've only found one more, after the diary and ring. The locket you found with Harry was a fake, but we managed to find the real one and destroy it. They still need my help, we have to find the rest of ….. them, but I can't… I promised that I would stay and help Professor Snape." Her face brightened for a moment. "Can't he help? I'm sure with his knowledge of V… of You-Know-Who he might have a good idea of where or what they might be."

"I'm afraid not, my dear. Severus is too close to Tom. He is an accomplished Occlumens, but if Tom should see the slightest hint of anything wrong, he will stop at nothing to find every secret Severus knows. We cannot risk him finding out about the task I have set Harry. If he believes there is a risk to his hocruxes he will hide and protect them so well there will be no chance of destroying them."

"There must be a way I can help both the boys and Professor Snape," she said musingly. Now she had decided to help him there was nothing that would stop her. The man had done enough for others without anyone looking out for him. She was going to change that. But the boys couldn't be left to try and find the rest of the horcruxes by themselves, they were far too quick to rush into situations without thinking them through, and they were terrible at research. She was sure they'd never figure it out without her. She wasn't even sure what had happened to her bag. She'd dropped it at some point as she was running from the Snatchers. Everything she and the boys needed was in there, all of her books. She'd have to ask Professor Snape if she could use the school library. The though set off an idea in her mind.

"Professor, I have an idea of how to do both." She turned and raised her voice to address Snape as well. "Professor, I still have to find a way to help Harry and Ron. They have something they must do, and they will need help, but Professor Dumbledore says I can't ask you. But I think I have a way to help them, and stay here with you." She paused to wait for his reaction.

"Go on, Miss Granger," was all he said.

"If you keep my memories safe, and when you think we have enough time, give me the chance to research and try to help the boys. I will store my memories of the research, you then obliterate me again, and the next time I will see the new memories as well as the rest. You can continue to do what you need to so _he_ doesn't get suspicious, and I can continue to help my friends."

"And what would stop you from getting suspicious of the sudden losses of memory? If Voldemort sees it in your mind he will want to know what memories are disappearing. He is already angry that he has not been able to find any information about Potter in your mind."

She thought for a moment. "Well, if you wait until the morning and wake me up, then I won't realise that I'm missing memory. After you obliviate me I will just think it's the next day. Or I could be knocked unconscious for a while… you could always tell me after that I had been asleep for a long time recovering."

"And what could I possibly do that would make you believe you have been knocked out for hours or even a day on what could be a fairly regular basis?"

She already had the answer to that one, although the thought made her nauseous. She took a deep breath and summoned her courage. "The Cruciatus curse? Surely that could that make me black out."

"Yes." His mouth twisted in distaste. "Bad enough that I have to… force myself on you. I had hoped to avoid using the Cruciatus on you as much as possible. You had a small taste of it earlier. Are you sure you are really prepared to go through that on a regular basis? You would not be able to endure it."

"Wouldn't that be suspicious? Surely he would expect you to perform it on me, occasionally at least? And if it is what needs to be done to fool him, then yes, I am prepared to do it," she replied hotly, stalking towards him, her Gryffindor bravery insulted. "Don't think you hold the monopoly on self-sacrifice. What Harry is doing is important, and as far as I understand, so are you, and I must do all I can to help you both. And if being raped and tortured is what it takes…" she choked slightly before continuing. "Don't you dare go easy on me! If there is any suspicion that all is not as it should be if he looks in my head, then it is all for nothing."

"Have you ever cast the curse, Miss Granger? he said almost wearily. "You have to truly mean it for the curse to be strong enough to knock you out."

"You must find a way to mean it, Professor," she said simply, stepping towards him and laying her hand on his arm. Snape looked old and careworn. He obviously hated the thought of what she was begging him to do.

"Maybe… you could remember all the times I insisted on answering you correctly in class," she said with a small smile, trying to lighten his mood.

It had worked somewhat, a small smile now ghosted across his lips, although there was still a dark expression visible in his eyes. "Maybe, Miss Granger. We shall see."

"Ah, Severus, I remember the many times you would stand in this very office and complain about Miss Granger's aptitude for knowing all the answers to your questions. I remember you didn't seem to be particularly enamoured of the fact that she actually managed to equal your own OWLS potions score either." The painting the addressed Hermione. "I think what offended him the most, however, was the fact that you weren't in Slytherin. Yes, Severus?"

"Whatever you say, Albus," he answered nonchalantly, trying to ignore the observation. Dumbledore and Hermione shared a quick smile.

"Well, Miss Granger," he tried to return to the previous conversation. "It seems we have decided on an acceptable, if distasteful course of action. If you wish I can order dinner, and then we can discuss anything else you feel is important while we eat, or is there something you wish to do first?

"Can I do some research first? I'm not really hungry yet. And I still want to …" She trailed off, unable to look him in the eyes. How could she ask him to torture her with the Cruciatus, and not be able to ask this of him? Snape frowned, obviously wondering what she was still unable to say.

She decided to try and chance the subject. There was plenty of time to ask later. "Oh, you don't happen to have my wand do you, Professor? I can't remember having had it at all."

"I don't have it, but I do know where I can get it. It would be of little use to you now in any case. While you were unconscious the Dark Lord ordered me to bind your power. It is a rather long and taxing spell. Besides, I would only have to redo it in a few hours, and there are more pressing matters to attend to this evening. I will look into attaining your wand, and maybe at a later date we can lift the binding for a few hours."

Hermione nodded, clearly disappointed. "I need access to the library. Is it possible for me to get down there without being seen?"

"I don't believe so. The Carrows are unpredictable, and have an unerring knack of being able to find anyone doing what they should not be. I can't risk exposing you to them. They will be curious enough as it is, and your presence in the library would be… peculiar, considering why you are here. However, I believe I have something as good as, if not better, than the library…. This way, Miss Granger."

Hermione's followed him back to his rooms. This time they entered the library. Hermione gasped, her eyes wide at the sheer amount of books in the room. Her fingers twitched at the sight, and Snape noticed, smirking at her.

"Considering the importance of your task, I will allow you to read any book you wish, but if you want to read a book on dark magic, I would ask that you inform me first. If you are not sure what the book might contain you must consult me first. Many of these books are quite dangerous and rare, and have their own wards on them. Some of them are dangerous in their own rights."

Hermione just nodded, her eyes still traveling around the lines of books. There were so many, a vast number of them not available even in the restricted section.

Snape smiled gently at her. "Off you go, Miss Granger." He give her a little push. She went quickly to the closest shelf and began browsing the titles, trailing her hands gently across the spines. Occasionally she paused to pull a book out, and quickly she had a stack which she tucked under one arm. Snape watched her for a few moments before he pulled out his wand and deftly magicked the pile from her hands and set it down on his desk, which he then also expanded.

A small stool was also quickly transfigured into a larger chair which pulled itself up to the desk on the opposite side to his own chair. Hermione stopped to watch him while he worked, smiled in thanks, and continued her perusal of the shelves. Before long she had another pile of books under her arm which she balanced on the edge of the desk and sat down.

Snape raised his head from his own book, and looked up at her again as she pulled open the first book and begun to scan the pages. After a few moments she asked Snape for parchment and a quill which he gave to her, and she began to scribble.

Snape ran his eyes over the pile of books then turned his attention back to Hermione, satisfied that she hadn't chosen anything that needed the wards removing from. He watched her curiously for a few minutes as she worked, furiously writing with one hand, and turning pages with the other, sometimes twirling a strand of her bushy hair around her finger as she thought.

He opened the desk and pulled out a small, worn book. The sound of the drawer closing with a bang made her look up from her book. Their eyes met for a moment, and lips twitched slightly as he glanced over the piles of books surrounding her, but Hermione could see the pain in his eyes. _This all must have been awful for him. He's got no one but a painting to confide in, and everyone hates him._

Seeing even a hint of a smile on his face amazed her, though she knew it shouldn't, but it was so unlike the stern teacher she had always known. He began to read, and she took the chance to study his face carefully. He was even gaunter than he had been at the end of the sixth year, and there was an air of melancholy hanging around him that she had not noticed earlier.

Hermione couldn't remember having seen him genuinely smile before, unless it had been at the misfortune of someone else, usually a Gryffindor whom he was intent on making cry. Yet, he had shown more positive emotion in the last few hours than she had seen in all the previous six years. _Since we decided on a plan which would include me losing any memory of it_. She rolled her eyes. _Still, it's nice to know that he actually has other emotions besides hate and anger._


	50. Chapter 50

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Thank everyone who has been reviewing. I will answer them, I'm just trying to get the last few chapters banged out as quickly as possibly.

I love this chapter, let me know what you think.  


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memory cont)

A couple of hours later Snape had moved to one of the armchairs by the fire with his book, and she was now over halfway through the pile of books. She had filled several rolls of parchment with her neat handwriting, but there were more questions than answers on the page, although she had written a list of other books she'd found references to that she would seek out later. She tapped her lips thoughtfully with a finger as she scanned down the parchment. It was so hard to find anything on horcruxes, even in books on dark magic, but surely in a library with so many dark tomes there must be something. It was only finding the right one.

Snape suddenly shut his book with a loud snap, startling Hermione from her musing. "I believe it is time for dinner. It's starting to get late and we still have much to do." Hermione put down her quill with a sigh.

"What do I do with all this?" She waved her hand over the books and parchment. She couldn't leave them out for Snape to read through.

"Leave the books, I shall put them back later. The parchment can go in the cupboard. There is a strong notice-me-not charm on it, and it is heavily warded. It will do for now."

"Um, Professor," she tried to sound nonchalant. "You don't happen to have a copy of Beedle the Bard I could borrow later?"

"Interesting reading, considering your usual material, Miss Granger. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, I was given a copy by a friend. They thought I would find it interesting since I wasn't brought up on the stories, being muggle-born, and of course much of it is very interesting as you can see how some of the stories have helped to influence the way many people view…"

"Enough, Miss Granger, I'm sorry I asked. I will find you a copy if you promise never to discuss your theories on the subject with me. Albus probably left a copy. He always was the type to children's stories." As Hermione nodded and turned away, the real one saw a tiny satisfied smirk cross her lips. _Looks like Snape doesn't know that he gave his book to me. At least I didn't let on that it might be important. Sneaky, Hermione._

Snape took out his wand and conjured up two large plates of food. Hermione eyed the plates thoughtfully, then looked around the room. "I just thought of another problem. What about the house elves?"

"What of them?"

"Well it's a fair possibility that once I believe I am here against my wishes I may think of using the house elves to help me escape. Dobby, for example would probably come if I called him.

"The house elves are currently under orders to stay out of my rooms unless called."

"Why?"

For a moment he looked like he would not reply. "I wish to be… alone. Everyone here believes I am something I am not, and my own company is infinitely preferable to that of anyone else's. I spend most of my time in here, except when I have to stop the Carrows from taking their punishments too far. I am afraid if I have to see everything they are doing I will not be strong enough to stop myself from hexing them into oblivion, and then where would we be? I do not want anyone, not even the elves entering my rooms. I want… to be left…. alone." He spoke bitterly, looking disgusted with himself at the lack of action he was taking to protect the students. "I will deal with the elves, and speak to Dobby in particular and make sure they understand the situation. They are bound to obey and to keep my secrets."

Perhaps aware that he had exposed far more of his inner turmoil that intended he was silent for the rest of the meal, and Hermione copied him. When they finished he vanished the empty plates and gestured for her to make herself comfortable in one of the armchairs, while he lowered himself into the one of the opposite side of the fire. Hermione began to looks nervous again, worrying at her lips with her teeth.

"Out with it, Miss Granger."

"Professor?"

"You have been wishing to ask me something that you obviously find difficult to voice. Make your request so we can deal with it and move on."

"Oh… well, I…. just….wanted to say I'm sorry," she finished in a rush.

"For?"

"Inflicting myself on you when you wish to be alone. Making you do things you don't want to help me." She paused. "Everything you went through… you know, before. In the memories. Dumbledore… Harry…" she trailed off, obviously wanting to say more.

"I told you I do not need your pity, Miss Granger. As for your presence here, it cannot be helped now, so do not think too much on it. But I think that was not what you wanted to speak to me about. It's getting late, so ask now or not at all."

"I'm sorry, it's very personal, and embarrassing. I don't quite know how to phrase it."

"I will take whatever you say seriously, and consider it carefully, if that helps."

"A little… not that much really."

He waited silently.

"It's about….what you're going to have to do to me… to make it convincing."

Looking slightly discomfited, Snape replied, "What in particular are you referring to? The Crucia…"

"Not that." She swallowed. "The other thing… where you have to… you know… with me."

"Yes?" he replied tonelessly.

"Well, I'm… I mean… I've never… you know."

Snape was silent for a moment before, "Oh." Red spots appeared high on his cheeks.

He paused again. "I will do my best to be… as gentle as possible, the first time, but it must seem convincing."

"I didn't mean…. Sorry Professor, I feel really awkward talking to you about this from across the room. Could you….?" She waved at his chair as she stood.

Once he realised what she meant he grimaced, before hesitantly pulled out his wand to point it at his armchair. "Engorgio." The armchair lengthened, now big enough for the both of them to sit side by side.

Hermione perched on the edge of the seat and twisted towards him. Snape seemed to be pressing himself into the arm of the chair, as far away from her as he could manage, clearly uncomfortable. She placed one of her hands over his right one that lay twitching in his lap, curling her fingers around his so her fingertips were rubbing against his palm and her other hand played with the button of the long cuff that fell down partway over his hand. He shifted uncomfortably, his hand twitching as if he wanted to pull away, his left arm bent and his hand in front of his mouth, as if to hide its expression from her. He looked almost scared of what she might say next.

_Oh Gods, I don't believe I'm about to ask this. How the hell did I get here…?_ "Please, Professor," she tried again, her voice faltering. "I don't want…

* * *

The memory suddenly ended, the torn edge of it feeling somewhat uncomfortable as it settled in her mind. Hermione reeled in shock. _Merlin's balls… that was… I can't believe I did that. It was me… I chose to do it, and Snape didn't want me to._ He'd tried so hard to convince her not to, but she'd been so determined, treating it like one of her pet projects. She'd not understood what she was getting herself into, not really, despite her confident words. And Snape had been so unlike her previous experience of him; almost kind, but wary, trying to do anything that would help her get through what he knew would have to happen. Perhaps that was how he could have been if he hadn't had to pretend for so many years. Or maybe he was just grateful to have someone else understand why he acted the way he did.

Incredulity began to fade as the memory and all the resulting emotions settled fully into the gap in her mind, and suddenly she wasn't sure why she had found her actions so strange a mere moment ago. The decisions she had made were her own, and they had been thought through logically at the time. Remorse set in as she remembered accusing him of forcing her into staying to save his own hide. _Why didn't he say something? I've been so horrible to him… Oh Gods, and I just let him die!_

She looked at the other phial in her hand. What had she been about to ask Snape at the end? Maybe it held the answers. She quickly uncapped it, using her wand once again to place the memory back in her head. The tingling feeling started again as it began to reintegrate itself, and she was pulled back into her past.

* * *

"Please, Professor," she said in a low voice. "I don't want to be a… a you-know when you first have to…" she faltered and had to take another breath. "…assault me," she murmured finally.

If she hadn't been so astounded at her own words she would have laughed had at the horrified expression on Snape's face as he finally comprehended what she meant. He hurriedly pulled his hands out of hers as his face turned even sallower than usual, except for the two patches at the top of his cheeks. He placed one on the arm of the chair beside him, and the other flat on the seat between them, as if prepared to take flight.

"Miss Granger, you cannot possibly be suggesting what I think you are." She looked down, suddenly shy and unable to look at him. "I believe you ask asking me to… not one else knows you are here, so I'm assuming you mean for me…" he trailed off.

"Yes, I'm asking you. I want you to…" she said gently, but firmly, seeing he was just as embarrassed as she. "You're going to have to do it at some point anyway, and I would prefer to do it like this."

"But… why?" he choked.

"You understand why. The next few weeks are going to be horrible, for the both of us. You are going to have to beat me and f-force yourself o-on me." Tears began to toll down her cheeks, and she struggled to continue speaking. "I am g-going to despise you and b-believe the worst of you, and all the time you will be p-p-protecting me." She brought her hands up for her eyes and covered them. "I can't pretend this is how I imagined doing it, but at least this way it is my own choice, even if tomorrow I can't remember."

"I am not sure I could…"

"Why? Why not? You will have to… do it soon anyway. Why not now?" she cried.

"Because…" he looked away, looking completely ashamed and unable to finish his sentence. "I am not sure I know how to…"

Her jaw fell open. "You mean... You've never…?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course I have done IT before," he snapped. "But it's always been… well, at the sort of parties I had to attend, usually where the women were less than willing, and it was expected of me…"

She laid her hand on his arm. "You had to do it to maintain your cover..?" she questioned.

"More recently, yes. Not in the beginning," he admitted. "The night I took my mark I… They had brought several smuggle women for the initiates to …"

Hermione tried not to show her horror at his words, but her hand trembled slightly. Snape hadn't seemed to notice though. He slumped in his chair. "Even then, it wasn't what I really wanted, it wasn't what I had joined for. I wanted to be somebody, I wanted…" his eyes looked up and caught hers for the first time in a while, and he stopped speaking, knowing she understood.

She said nothing, letting him continue. "Those who were willing were usually Death-Eaters or their wives, happy and willing to do anything to gain favour from someone close to the Dark Lord. Even then, there were never many. Who would want…?" He lifted his hands to gesture, but let them fall back down. "In many ways they were worse than the ones who were there against their will… the things they enjoyed. At least I could help _them_ a little, end their suffering…" He choked up and fell silent.

Hermione put her in on his arm again and breathed, "Professor, I'm so sorry."

His face went blank as she spoke, and he stood quickly, his back to her, seemingly appalled at what he had uncharacteristically revealed about himself. "I do not require your pity," he said defensively.

"So you have said already, although it doesn't stop me from thinking you don't deserve the life you've had."

"He faced her again, one eyebrow raised. "I made my own choices, Miss Granger. I chose to follow the Dark Lord, and then I chose to turn my back on him and make amends for the things I did. No one forced me to live this way, to serve two masters. It is MY choice."

Hermione stood also. "And I have no choice. You know why I have to stay here. I have to do this, and I'm asking for you to do this one thing for me. Who knows what will happen in the next few months. Maybe this will be my only chance to... to be with someone when I chose to do so."

"Please reconsider. You cannot want to do such a thing with someone like me. You will have enough of my… attentions over the coming weeks, I am sure."

"Obviously it's not an ideal situation, but I will not change my mind. I only have to change yours. Please…"

He looked down at her, her soft imploring face, her wide brown eyes, the gentle hands on his arm. He opened his mouth to reply, and for a moment she though that would refuse her again, but instead he said tensely, "As you wish."

Hermione was shocked that he had agreed. She gave him a small, sad smile, and then they both turned their heads away from each other, embarrassed.

"How…?

"What…?"

They both spoke at the same time. Their eyes met momentarily before flicking away again. Snape took a deep breath, steeling himself to take the lead.

"How would you like to proceed?" he asked formally. Hermione stifled a laugh at his tone. He sounded like he was on the way to the gallows rather than to bed with a woman.

"I don't know… Should we…?" Hermione turned again to face him. She gently drew her bottom lip into her mouth, brining Snape's attention down to it as she regarded him thoughtfully. So intent was he on her lips that he didn't notice her hand slowly rise to his temple. As she went to brush back the hair that had fallen forward over his face he jumped slightly. She hesitated, pulling her arm back again for a second, before swallowing hard. _Come on, you can do this!_ Feeling unsure of herself, she moved her hand back and ran it through the strands at the side of his head, before letting her hand drift slowly across his jaw to his lips, her eyes following its path. Snape looked as scared as she felt.

He watched her, his eyes wide and incredulous. He looked as if he had been paralysed by her touch, and he had no clue how to respond. His chest now rose heavily and his lips parted slightly as her fingers ran under his bottom lip. Hermione's hand fell away from his face. She looked up into his eyes and froze too. Neither moved for a few seconds, then, slowly Hermione raised her head towards his, her eyelids fluttering shut at the last moment, before her lips met his in a chaste kiss.

It lasted only a few seconds before she pulled back, confused and insecure. Snape had not moved, his eyes had stayed open and his lips motionless the whole time. Hermione felt worried at the lack of response and began to pull away.

Snape's face softened the tiniest bit at her expression. He grabbed her wrist, and, watching his own fingers carefully stroking her skin, he spoke in a hesitant voice. "I apologise, this is… difficult for me. I am not quite sure how to…"

"You mean you've never kissed anyone?" she asked, surprised. The way he was touching her was beginning to make her tremble. Who knew she would be so sensitive just there?

"Not for a long time, not since I was about your age. Not like this, anyway," was his wistful reply.

"Oh… I can't imagine…"

"…why anyone would want to kiss the greasy old bat of the dungeons? A little more fire had returned to his face, and he had pulled away from her slightly.

"No," she spoke gently. "I can't imagine having to be alone for such a long time."

"I prefer to be alone, Miss Granger. Considering the alternative I have, it is by far the best choice. My life has been too busy and dangerous for too many years to allow me to pursue any romantic entanglements. Not that anyone outside the Dark Lord's followers would be likely to consider it, and then only for their own purpose."

He said this without inflection, his face expressionless, but the real Hermione could almost feel the hurt radiating off him, the conviction that no one would ever accept him for who he was, and suddenly a lot of his behaviour over the past years began to make more sense _. I know all about feeling unattractive and incapable of hooking someone's interest without them having an ulterior motive. Harry and Ron don't even seem to realise I'm a girl most of the time, but they're always more than happy for me to do all their hard work and get them through everything in one piece,_ she thought bitterly.

She smiled slightly, and Snape's face turned hard immediately He obviously believed her to be mocking him. She realised she was treading on thin ice and would have to say just the right thing to stop him from changing his mind.

"I don't agree," she said mildly."

"Agree with what?" he said through gritted teeth.

"That no one would be interested…"

"What are you talking about, Miss Granger?"

"Well... um…" She coloured and looked shy. "I know for a fact there was more than one girl who thought about… you know… with you, and that was just in Gryffindor." She snorted quietly. "I believe it went along the lines of, 'Tall, dark and mysterious' and 'Every girl wants a bad boy."

Snape looked amazed and horrified at the same time. "You mean to tell me the Gryffindor girls have been discussing me in such a way? I know my reputation with the students, I don't believe such a thing."

Hermione put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. "There was some discussion of… detentions… and being…punished in various ways. I think over your desk with some light spanking was the favourite." Her face was now bright red with suppressed laughter and she was shaking slightly. _Oh Gods,_ she thought. _Whatever possessed me to tell him that?_

"Let me guess, Miss Brown was one of the instigators of such discussions?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, but she was more under the impression you would be more the passionate type under all those buttons. She'd a bit overly obsessed with all those gothic romances if you ask me."

Snape squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers going to his high collar and touching the buttons there, as if to check they were still done up. His other hand went up to the bridge of his nose, which he rubbed gently.

"And then there's…" she stopped.

"There's what?" he replied from behind him hand.

"There's… well... you do have a lovely voice."

"My... voice?" Snape squeaked. He stopped rubbing his face and looked at her. "What about my voice?"

"It's kind of… you know…"

"No, I don't know. Perhaps you would care to enlighten me?"

"Kind of sexy, deep, you know," she replied with a blush, and then fought not to laugh at his consternation.

"Sexy? He repeated. He seemed strangely please at the thought.

"Yes, kind of… low and gravelly. I still remember the speech you did in our first potions class…" she shivered, and then looked at him, embarrassed. "Well… some people thought it was rather sexy." _People like me that is…_ "Well anyway, it can't be that bad if you have half of the Gryffindor girls discussing…"

"Half of…" Snape put his hand over his face. "How on earth am I going to be able to stand in front of the school again when I know…. this?"

Hermione said nothing, but shook slightly as she checked her laughter. Her merriment stilled after a few moments when he still had not lowered his hand, and she reached out and pulled it away from his face. Behind it he looked worried, his eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut.

With her other hand she touched him on the cheek. "I'm sorry, I didn't think it would upset you."

"God, they must hate me…" he whispered brokenly. His eyes were tortured. She'd never seen so much expression on his face.

"They wouldn't, if they knew," she promised him. "I don't. I can't believe how much you've done for all of us, and you have to live with them hating you every day. They won't hate you once they know." She put her other hand to his face and guided it gently back towards her. "I don't hate you."

Hermione pressed her lips to his again, slightly firmer this time, more sure of herself. For a moment he didn't respond, but then his lips moved slightly against hers. Snape put his hands over hers and pulled them away from his face. She responded only by pressing harder against his mouth. His hands slid down to her arms and stopped there, holding her awkwardly as they moved their closed mouths slowly against each other.

When they moved apart again, Snape still looked incredulous, although his face was starting to lose some of the tortured look. He was gripping her arms hard, as if clinging on to his salvation. Looking down at her soft expression and swollen lips he seemed to lose confidence and his mask slipped back on, his face going blank once again.

He spoke plainly. "I'm not sure what you're expecting from me, Miss Granger, but I am certainly not the man of your, or anyone else's dreams. I don't know how to make this special for you, and you deserve better than this." He gestured to himself in disgust.

"Please stop," she begged. "Stop talking about yourself like that. You've taken care of me, of all of us. You've made me feel safe, safer than I could have imagined only this morning." She grabbed his hand and pulled it onto her lap, holding it in both hands. "I've just told you you're not anyway near as unattractive as you seem to persist in believing. I don't expect flowers and expressions of love. I just want to feel safe, for a little longer. I trust you, I trust you not to hurt me… please…"

Their eyes met, his full of uneasiness, hers pleading. Finally he relented, nodding sharply once before standing. His hand slipped out of hers, but as soon as he was on his feet he held it out to her again. Hermione gingerly placed her hand in his and without speaking again he pulled her up, and led her out of the room.


	51. Chapter 51

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

They entered the bedroom, the rumpled sheets from the earlier memory now clean and made neatly. Hermione stood in the middle of the room, biting her lips nervously as Snape dropped her hand to light a few of the candles around the room, extinguishing the brighter flames on the large chandelier handing from the ceiling. The fire was burning low in the grate, leaving the room bathed in a dim glow. The room was cooler than it had been when she had awoken earlier, although it was not cold. Hermione looked around, once more surprised at how comfortable the room was. _And how little black there is._

Snape pointed towards one of the doors on the far side of the bed. "The bathroom is in there, if you need to…" he trailed off. She flashed a subdued smile at him, and padded over quickly to the bathroom, grateful to have a moment to herself.

She used the toilet quickly, and went to wash her hands. Looking up into the mirror she stared at her own reflection, the tears welling up and spilling over silently, leaving tracks down her cheeks. "Come on Hermione, you can do this," she whispered to herself. "You've all but forced the poor man into accepting you. It could be worse… a lot worse." To be honest, she'd been surprised to have made it out of Malfoys' house without the worst having happened already, especially considering the way she had been stripped of clothes and forced to go in front of all those people with nothing on.

Her cheeks burned with the shame of what had happened. She'd been mortified at the time, but also shocked and stunned. No one had seen her naked since she'd been old enough to bathe and clean herself. Things with Victor had never got far enough for him to see any part of her that wasn't normally on display, and Ron… well, despite months, or even years of waiting for that to finally happen, it seemed that fate had other plans for her.

She was silent a moment, letting the tears fall. She'd always assumed for years now, that it would be Ron that would have been the one to… "Well, that not going to happen now, so stop feeling sorry for yourself. It won't change anything," she told herself sternly. After a few moments she managed to get her crying under control, eventually grabbing a tissue, wiping her face carefully as she tried to erase any sign of the tears without leaving her eyes too red. Snape seemed reluctant enough to go through with it as it was, and she didn't want him to back out over a few of her tears. "Besides," she whispered conspiringly to herself in the mirror, "he is the sexy old greasy bat of the dungeons with the gorgeous voice…" _It's not like you've not fantasised about doing this with him before, is it?_

The corner of her mouth twitched up slightly as she tried to cheer herself up. "Oh Gods, I can't believe I actually told him all that…" She clapped her hands over her cheeks, which were turning pink again, and groaned softly in embarrassment. Then she recalled his consternation when she had told him how some of the girls viewed him, and how disbelieving he'd been that anyone could find him attractive. A wave of sympathy flowed through her as she realised how badly he thought of himself. He may have been hated by people due to the circumstances he'd been forced into, but she found something terribly sad about his fragile self-esteem, and wondered just what had happened to make him think so badly of himself.

Comprehending suddenly that what was about to happen might be even more difficult for Snape than it was for her – she might have been a virgin, but she at least was used to giving and receiving affection, - she decided that she would do her best to make it as painless for Snape as possible. No tears, no hesitation. She could at least do her best to try and show him some of the care and tenderness he had obviously been without for so long. She barely heard the voice that told her that concentrating on Snape in such a way was more for herself than him, than it would help to take her mind off her own heartache.

Eyeing herself in the mirror once again she drew herself up, blinking back the remains of the tears in her eyes and trying to gather her courage to leave the bathroom. "Come on, Hermione, you're not a Gryffindor for nothing. Hurry up before he thinks there's something wrong and tries to back out again." Head in the air, and determined to keep her nervousness off her face, she returned to the bedroom.

Snape was pacing slowly, seemingly lost in thought, and it wasn't until he had spun around as he reached the opposite end of the room that he noticed her exit the bathroom. They both looked at each other uncertainly before he spoke. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to…" He waved at the door behind her. Hermione nodded and moved out of his way as he stepped closer. "If you want to get ready you can…ummm…" he glanced at the bed, and her eyes followed his. He looked back down at her once more, and she tried to smile reassuringly up at him. His brow wrinkled for a moment as he regarded her, then without another word he suddenly stepped past and swept into the bathroom.

Hermione let out the deep breath she was holding and walked cautiously to the bed, stroking her hand gingerly across the blanket, as if afraid it would bite. Looking around and biting her lip she shrugged and walked round to the side of the bed and sat down. She peeked over her shoulder at the door through which Snape had gone, and before her courage failed, she quickly pulled off the robe that he had given her.

Her skin pebbled immediately. The air while not chilly, was still cool enough to be uncomfortable. She slipped under the sheets, pulling them up under her arms and clutching them tight. _I can't believe I'm actually about to do this. Sex with Snape… Well it's a better way to lose my virginity than the alternative. Or with one of the Death-Eaters that had been at Malfoy's house._ She shivered with disgust. God knows what one… or more of them might have done to her. Even if Snape had been the evil Death-Eater they had all believed him to be, he would still have been preferable to someone as vile as Peter Pettigrew. She felt sick at the thought of those rat-like claws on her. His eyes had been bad enough.

She was saved from her brooding as Snape soon came back in, looking even more nervous than she probably did herself. He had taken off his outer robes, which he now threw onto an empty chair, and the high collar of his coat was undone. His fingers went to the long row of buttons and he pulled a few open before he caught sight of her watching him silently. When he hesitated she quickly turned her face, and rolled away from him slightly, sensing he was self-conscious about undressing in front of her.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see when he resumed unbuttoning himself, the task taking a good minute. Her breath began to quicken in anticipation as he undid the long sleeves, and pulled the coat off, leaving it on the same chair. His hands went to the collar of his shirt, and he hesitated before opening it only to just below the hollow of his neck. He had turned away from the bed, and Hermione snuck the occasional glance over her shoulder at him as he took his time to undress. She'd never seen him wearing so little before, probably none of the students had. Despite the fact that he was nearly fully dressed there was something more intimate about seeing him like this than another person completely naked.

Clad in shirt and black trousers he walked over to the bed and sat down, pulling his side of the covers back. Hermione shifted uncomfortably, the long wait making her nervousness, although having watched him strip she was now starting to feel slightly impatient for more. There was something very alluring about his obvious shyness, something that was helping her to overcome her own anxieties.

Snpape pulled off his trousers, leaving the on the floor, and with a quick glance at Hermione, who was fully naked beneath the sheets, and still turned away from him in an effort to make him believe she hadn't been peeking, he pulled off his boxers and dropped them on top. Quickly he swung his legs into the bed, rolling over so that he was facing her. Seeing that he was finally ready Hermione turned also, still keeping the blankets clutched to her chest. They looked at each other breathlessly, and waited for each other to make the first move.

In the end it was Hermione who did, touching her fingers gently to his shirt collar, and looking at him to ask for permission to undo the buttons. But instead Snape brushed her hand away and clutched at the neck self-consciously. "I'd prefer not to..." He glanced past her for a second, before his eyes returned to hers.

She frowned, not understanding. "Why not?" She laid her hand back over his.

"I… It's not the prettiest of sights." When he saw she was still confused he sighed and spoke again. "I have more than a few scars earned in the service of both the Dark Lord and Dumbledore. They are rather ugly, you don't have to see them."

Hermione frowned, thinking of the scar across her chest from being cursed at the Ministry. Would Snape think she was ugly too? She had been a little self-conscious of it to begin with, but after it had faded and turned an almost silvery colour she had come to view it as proof of what she and her friends had face that night, and she was almost proud of it.

But now she felt uncertain. Snape was hiding his scars beneath his shirt, but she hadn't thought to keep hers covered. What would he think? She clutched the sheet to her tighter for a moment, before turning her attention back to him. Immediately she noticed the look in his eyes that was somehow vulnerable, and she could almost see him mentally retreating from her as she continued to keep silent after his revelation. Her heart softened again as his lack of self-worth was once again laid bare.

Realising that not only was he possibly about to back out of the situation, but that his insecurities about his own body would likely have nothing to do with the way he would view her, she decided she needed to do something quick. Moving her hand down onto his chest and laying it flat before wriggling closer to him. "We all have scars, Professor," she whispered roughly. _You'll see mine in a minute…_ "I'm sure yours aren't as bad as you think, but if you want to keep your shirt on, that's fine". Locking eyes with his she moved her head closer, licking her lips slightly, and kissed him again.

Snape tensed, seemingly ready to bolt, but Hermione's hand fisted in his shirt and held him there. Eventually his eyes closed and he slowly began to return the kiss. Mutually their mouths began to open, tongues starting to grow bold, and at the first touch of hers against his he groaned quietly. They both froze at the sound, eyes flicking open for a second before they started again, both of their tongues now slipping out occasionally to taste each other.

Neither made any further advances towards intimacy for a while, both comfortable to just kiss. Again Hermione was the one to make the next move, pulling away from Snape suddenly and shifting even closer to him, and looking up through her eyelashes at him, hoping he would take the next step. He didn't move, except for his eyes, which darted over her face and somewhere past her uncertainly, as if wondering why she had stopped kissing him.

With a quiet sigh, Hermione rolled flat on her back, making sure she was as close to his body as she could get through the blankets that still separated them. She tugged the cover down a little, exposing her neck fully as well as the first swell of her breasts. The top of her scar was now visible, and she saw the moment he spotted it. His eyed widened just a touch before he controlled himself. She lay still under his scrutiny, waiting for some sort of response from him.

Snape just stared at her uncovered skin, and still made no move. His hesitancy was beginning to make her feel awkward. Was she really that unappealing that he couldn't bring himself to touch her? If the situation had been anything other than it was, she would have admitted defeat, but she so needed him to do this for her. Grabbing his hand she pressed it down over her chest, his palm over the blanket and his fingers touching her bare skin. He tried to pull away as if stung, but she held him firmly and pushed up into his hand.

"Please… I can't do this all by myself," she pleaded. She moved his hand so that it rubbed up and down slightly, and her eyes fluttered closed at the sensation of his calloused fingertips on her soft skin. Heat seemed to spread outward from the spot. Hermione wished she knew what he was thinking, or that he would say something to give her a clue as to what he was feeling. Finally he seemed to work up the courage and squeezed gently. Hermione's eyes flew open at the unexpected movement, and her breath caught.

Snape flinched, but kept his hand on her. He was watching her almost curiously, his eyes dark and hooded. Hermione's smile was nervous as she touched his shoulder and pulled him gently towards her. Her courage was wearing thin with so little encouragement from Snape. She desperately needed him to try harder.

As if he'd heard her, his warm fingers started to trace along her skin at the edge of the sheet, his sight fixed on where he was caressing her. She saw a small frown begin to form on his face, and then his eyes slowly moved up to meet hers, his fingers stilling a moment. Reading the question in them, she followed as his gaze dropped back down to her chest again. His fingers had stopped on the stop where her scar disappeared beneath the sheet.

Understanding what he wanted, but that he did not know how to ask, she pulled the sheet slightly lower, still leaving the lower half of her breast covered. Taking his hand yet again, she guided the tip of one finger so that it followed the line of her scar. She let go when they reached the end, hoping he would take the initiative and continue. She watched breathlessly as he hesitantly began to trace back down. She could virtually see the thoughts churning away behind his eyes as he touched her, almost reverently, his movements getting bolder with each passing second.

Pushing away the last of her own insecurities, she closed her eyes and just let herself enjoy the sensations he was causing. She gasped when he bent his head down to her neck, kissing her as his fingers began to explore her further. Snape pushed impatiently at the blanket and it slipped down to pool on her stomach, fully exposing her breasts to him. He ran his hands across her nipple, and Hermione hissed as they started to harden at his touch. His gentle attentions to her body were helping her forget her own worries as it began to respond to him. Her eyes closed, and she turned her head away, giving him more room as he continued to nibble at her neck.

He began to kiss his way down her body, his long hair brushing across her skin, eyes fixed on her face for a sign that she wished to stop. But she only lifted herself off the mattress slightly, pushing herself into his mouth. When he reached her right nipple he ran his tongue over it, and when she didn't pull away from him he took it between his lips and sucked gently.

At this, Hermione made a soft sound and arched her back again as a shiver ran through her whole body, leaving her with an ache between her legs that was begging to be assuaged. Snape pulled away slightly to look at her, his lips swollen and his eyes wild. Her breathing was starting to become ragged, hands now wandering over his shoulders and neck, before one of them came up to tangle in his hair. With the smallest pressure, she encouraged him to continue what he'd been doing and he lowered his head to her breast again.

His actions were becoming more confident as she reassured him with her hands and the sounds of enjoyment that were now slipping from her mouth uninhibited. She ran one hand down his back, dipping below the sheet and then back up his side, scoring her nails gently over his skin. The movement lifted his shirt slightly and part of his back was now visible. She could just make out the faintest traces of lines scored into his pale skin, but found herself uninterested in the sight, instead choosing to focus on the pleasure he was giving her.

Snape's hot mouth had closed over one of her breasts again, and he was stroking the other gently with his fingers. As Hermione's hand travelled back down his spine he groaned again, wrapping his hand around her waist and pulling her closer. She responded by lowering her face to nuzzle his hair, then lifting his face with her free hand so she could kiss him again.

As he opened his mouth to return her kiss, her hand then slid slowly down his neck and disappeared under his chest, continuing downwards. By now Snape's body was hovering partly over her own, the sheets covering what his shirt was not, but she could feel his bare leg pressed lightly against hers, his chest along her side, so she felt his whole body stiffening as he realised what she was searching for. Hermione pulled back from him, breaking their kiss to bite her bottom lip nervously as her hand faltered at his waist.

Dark eyes that had been glazed with desire lost some of their intensity as he realised she had stopped. "Are you ok? Do you want to stop? Snape asked, his breath hitching and he fought to catch his breath.

Her head shook. "No, I mean, yes. I'm fine. I just… I'm not sure how you…" She swallowed. "How you like to be touched."

"You don't have to do that. This is supposed to be for you." His hand continued to stroke her breast gently. His confidence was blossoming just as her own nerve started to fail her as she contemplated the next step. She really wanted to touch him… down there… not only to prove that she really wanted this, and to give him a measure of tenderness that he had long been without, but also to satisfy her own curiosity.

"I want to. You're only doing this for me. I'd like you to enjoy it too." She looked at him uncertainly, hoping he would agree and show her what she should do.

His eyes flashed with some deep emotion, but his only response was to lean in and kiss her again, more passionately than before. The hand on her breast slipped down to join hers, and together they moved down between their two bodies. He shifted his hips back to give them more room, and he guided her to his erection, showing her the best way to stroke it, where to put her fingers to the best effect.

She found herself entranced by the feel of his cock, the strange juxtaposition of soft and hardness at the same time, the smooth, silky skin under her fingers, the way he helped her to smear the moisture gathering at the tip, lubricating the shaft so that her hand moved up and down with ease. Soon he was gasping, his hips moving back and forth against her hand, his having moved away as soon as she'd caught on to what he liked. He threw his head back in bliss, and she stared in wonder into eyes that seemed even darker than before, as he stared unseeing past her, his face contorted with a mixture of ecstasy and disbelief. His lips moved slightly as if whispering something, and his eyes squeezed shut suddenly, as if in pain.

Hermione continued to stroke him, changing the pressure or speed, watching to see what got the best response from him before repeating it.

"Stop… stop…" he cried all of a sudden, his eyes flying open.

A worried look spread across her face, and she pulled her hand away. "What's the matter? Did I…?"

"No, you were doing it great. Too well, in fact," he panted, trying to catch his breath, and collapsing to one side of her. "Much more and I would have been incapable of performing the one service you asked for this evening."

"Oh," she said, blushing and not meeting his eyes. He seemed to be similarly embarrassed by his words. After a moment of silence she looked up at him once again, to catch him one again looking past her, a strange look on his face. "What is it?" she said, twisting her head to see if she could make out what was catching his attention. There was nothing there except a bedside cabinet with a candlestick resting on the top.

"It's nothing," he said hastily, before taking her lips with his once again, almost too eagerly. Snape moved closer to her, resting on his side, and leaning down over her. He ran his hand over her breasts and down her stomach. Her curiosity changed to nervousness once again as his fingers continued downward. No one had ever touched her so intimately before, and her breath caught with anticipation.

"Relax," he whispered against her mouth. "I'll go slowly. Tell me if you want me to stop."

Her mouth tightened, but she nodded her agreement. His hand began to move again, drifting lower as his fingers traced patterns across her skin. Snape continued to kiss her with short, almost chaste kisses, as the hand of the arm he was leaning on tangled and played with her hair. He seemed a completely different man from the timid one of 10 minutes previous.

Hermione stiffened as his fingers finally reached the spot between her legs that had been aching for attention. Heat flared through her body as he circled her clit gently, making her cry out wordlessly as her back arched. Snape's mouth moved to her neck, kissing it softly, and he began to whisper words of encouragement in her ear.

The mixture of his deft fingers gently teasing and his deep voice whispering sensually in her ear quickly brought her spiralling upward on a wave of pleasure, more intense than anything she had ever managed by herself, but after a few minutes she began to feel the frustration of not being able to make it over the edge.

Snape seemed to read something in her body language, for soon he whispered, "Will you show me how you touch yourself? I want to know what you like."

Her hand that had been resting on his chest joined his between her legs, and he felt how she circled her clit, before pressing lightly on it, then how she ran her fingers up and down her slit, dipping inside before returning to rub her wetness over her bud. Snape pushed her hand aside and took over.

Hermione visibly relaxed. Her eyes drifted closed and her mouth opened as the pleasure began to build. Her hips began to move in time with the fingers that were now moving gently in and out of her, carefully loosening the tight muscles. He continued to murmur in her ear. "You like that? Tell me what you want."

"Oh Gods," she exclaimed as his fingers found a particularly sensitive spot. "Please, don't… stop…talking."

"You mean to tell me that you're one of those Gryffindor girls that appreciates the sound of my voice," he rumbled deep in his chest. She let out a whimper as she nodded her head. When he was silent she opened her eyes to see him looking somewhat perturbed, staring into space again, his fingers losing their rhythm slightly.

"Please," she begged. She was so close and was desperate to come. "Please… I'm nearly there, don't stop."

At her words his eyes seemed to gather their focus once again, and he once more bent his neck to kiss the sensitive skin in the hollow of her neck. His fingers picked up their pace, and he tore a gasp from her when he worked out how to use his thumb to press on her clit at the same time.

"God… Yes!" she breathed, throwing her head back and pushing into his fingers as hard as she could. "Yes… I'm…" She trembled from head to toe as pleasure burst through her, the world turning white as she lost all sense of anything except her pulsing muscles. Her release was beyond anything she had ever imagined, and for a few moments nothing existed besides her ecstasy; no Voldemort, no war, no running for her life, no fear or worries. Then the glow faded, and she found herself back in the arms of the dark, grumpy potions master, the man who she knew would have to cause himself terrible pain by mistreating her in the weeks to come, and she had to quickly press her face into his shoulder so that he would not see the tears that she knew he would misunderstand.


	52. Chapter 52

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

  


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Snape seemed content to hold her for a few minutes, and she was grateful for the chance to compose herself before pulling to peer up at him. She'd been careful that her silent tears didn't touch his skin, and she'd been able to stop herself from blubbing so that hopefully her face and eyes weren't so red that the orgasm he'd just given her wouldn't explain it. However, when she finally looked, he wasn't even paying her any attention. There was a haunted look in his eyes, and she couldn't make out his expression at all.

"Sir?" She reached up to touch one cheek with the tips of her fingers. Snape jerked back slightly in surprise before focusing his gaze on her face. "Are you ok?" she asked gently, trailing her hand down and across his jaw.

"I…" He paused for a moment. "Are you ready to continue?"

She flushed deeply, although she refused to look away. "I think so… yes." She nibbled on her lower lip again nervously, knowing what would be coming next.

Snape pressed a finger to her mouth. "That's a bad habit you've developed," he said silkily. "You'd better learn to control it or everyone will know when you're worrying about something."

Hermione fought the urge to poke her tongue out at him, thinking he needed to take his own advice. His usual self-control had slipped frequently in the past hour, and she could tell there was something more on his mind than just the awkwardness of sleeping with her. Giving in to the impulse she stuck her tongue out slightly and flicked it against the pad of his finger. Something in his eyes changed, and his finger trembled slightly upon her lip. She decided to try it again. This time she ran her tongue around the tip, and suddenly it was gone, and his mouth was pressed hard against hers.

His cool reserve of earlier had disappeared, and now he was hot and insistently moving his lips and tongue against hers. Slowly his body moved over hers and she ended up pressed back into the mattress once again. His hand came up to cup her breast again as his thumb moved gently over the tip, sending small shocks through her body. This time around, the insecurities that had made her hesitate didn't seem as important. The orgasm that had torn through her a few minutes previous, as well as Snape's almost timid desire for her had left her feeling much more confident that this was what she wanted.

Snape had now settled with his hips between her legs, and she tensed as she felt the hot, hard length of him against her inner thigh. He looked down at her, concerned, resting his arms on either side of her shoulders. "Are you ok? Do you want to stop?" His worry for her was sweet, as was his willingness to discontinue if she wished, despite the fact it would leave him frustrated and without release. She held his gaze for a moment, noting the tension in his face and the uncertainty in his eyes as he waited for her to reject him. There was something touching, almost sad in the way he was so certain that even now she would turn him away. Her breath caught as she realised how, in that moment at least, he wanted her, needed her to accept him, possibly in a way that no one had ever done before.

"I'm fine," she whispered, not trusting her voice with anything more right then, and lifted her hand to gently brush aside the hair that hung like a veil around his face. She pressed her fingers to his cheek as she smiled up at him in what she hoped was a confident manner. If she had been a bit more experienced, if she'd known what to do, she might have taken the lead and proved she wanted to continue, but she needed him to show her what came next.

Snape seemed to take her at her word, though, turning his neck so he could rub at her palm with his lips. Hermione bit her lit to hold back a grin as she wondered at how strange it was to see such a tender, gentle side to him. Had he ever shown it to anyone else? From what he had said earlier, she didn't think so. How could a man who had known as little affection as he be capable of showing her such care? Her heart squeezed tight in her chest, and not from nerves this time.

Snape's lips dropped once more to hers, moving softly as he waited for her to respond. A wave of desire swept through her at his careful motion, and she abandoned the last of her doubts. She wanted to show the man who had protected and looked after so many, while receiving nothing but hate and distrust in return, some affection and care. She twined her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as she opened her mouth to tug on his bottom lip before sucking on it gently.

Snape made a small noise in the back of his throat. Emboldened by the sound, and wanting to hear it again, Hermione released his lip with a small pop as she dug her fingers into his hair, wanting to hold his face still for a moment. Their eyes met for a moment until Hermione gently swept her tongue over his top lip, massaging gently in small circles before pushing into the crevice at the corner of his mouth. Snape's eyes slid closed, his whole body motionless, except for a slight tremble in his arms.

This time she could actually feel his deep rumble, and she smiled in triumph. _Once more…_ She needed to know, for herself, for her own peace of mind, that this was more than just a chore for him, another thing that he had forced himself to do to for the good of the cause. She wanted, in some strange, almost twisted way, to show him he was not alone, that one person at least knew and appreciated all he had done.

She returned to his bottom lip, flicking her tongue slowly across it. Instead of pulling it into her own mouth again, she pressed her tongue lightly between his, hoping he would get the hint and open up. With a growl that made her sex ache, he granted her wish, but no longer willing to let her take the lead, he closed his lips around her tongue and applied a gentle suction, drawing it into his mouth as he stroked it gently with his own.

It was Hermione's turn to hum with pleasure and she shifted slightly under him, unconsciously trying to find a part of him to press against the ache between her thighs. The weight of him on top of her was pleasant, although she wasn't quite sure what she should do with her legs. She was holding them still on either side of him, but they were starting to get stiff from the awkward position. She wasn't sure whether to relax them or wrap them around his backside.

As Snape gently released her tongue and began kissing across to her jaw and down her neck, Hermione went with what felt most natural in the moment, and lifted her legs over his thighs so her feet were resting on his bum. The movement shifted his hips up, giving him clear access to her core, and suddenly she could feel his cock resting against her outer lips. Snape's mouth paused for a moment against her neck, so she encouraged him to continue by pulling his hips even closer with her feet. Her nerves hadn't gone completely, but the double sensations of his hot, wet mouth nibbling gently along her collarbone, and his hard length pressed up against her, were overwhelming.

She couldn't fight the urge to move against him, and just as Snape found her breast once more with one hand Hermione rocked her hips, making his cock rub along her slit and over the tender nub at the top. She gasped in delight and drew her hips back to try again. Her fingers dug through the material of his shirt into his shoulders as she ground herself against him. She could vaguely hear Snape hissing into her neck, and suddenly she was eager to take the next step.

"Please…" she whimpered, slowing the movement of her pelvis. Snape pushed up on his elbows to look at her, his eyes dark and liquid. In the dim light of the fire and the few candles burning around the room, his features were softened, his expression far from the sneering visage she had grown used to over the past seven year. She'd found something about him attractive for some time, but now he looked… almost handsome. She wanted him so badly she ached. "Please…" she whispered again.

Without looking away, Snape silently reached down between them, grasping his shaft and positioning the tip at her entrance. He paused, his face still filled with uncertainty. She gave him no chance to speak, lacing her fingers together at the back of his head and pulling him down for a quick, chaste kiss. "Please… I need you…"

Hermione pulled his bum towards her again with her feet, and without another word Snape began to press into her slowly, watching her carefully for any signs of discomfort. His entry was well lubricated from her earlier orgasm, and the ache in her clit was begging to be soothed, but still the discomfort grew, and suddenly it felt like something was pinching her hard. She tensed, and Snape stilled for a moment above her.

"Relax," he whispered, as his mouth came gently down on hers, teasing her lips gently with his tongue. One hand brushed gently across her nipple, and she gasped quietly in pleasure. In the same moment he pushed his hips forward, pressing hard into her. Hermione threw her head back and hissed in pain, tears coming to her eyes and rolling silently down her cheeks.

"Are you ok? I can stop if you wish."

Hermione fought to control her breath, and shook her head emphatically. "No, I… I want to keep going." She held back a sob as Snape shifted slightly, sending another stab of agony shooting up between her legs. She clutched him tightly, and after a moment he dug his hands under her shoulders and held her close, gently kissing the tears from her cheeks. Every minute he seemed to surprise her more with his capacity to be tender. Never in a million year could she have imagined Snape to be so considerate and kind. Not even Ron would have been able to be more careful with her than he had been. She burrowed her face into his neck, nudging his collar out of the way to press her lips against his salty skin, as her heart swelled with warmth.

"Tell me when you're ready."

The ache was starting to fade to a dull throb now, so she nodded silently, and tried rolling her hips against him. Snape made the noise she so enjoyed hearing again, and without further encouragement began to move, pulling his hips back, before sinking into her again. When she didn't complain he continued, the burning sensation mild enough to keep the distress from showing on her face. Trying to take her mind off the pain, she began to explore his body with her hands again, running them down his back until she reached the bottom of his shirt.

Gently she snuck one hand then the other under the thin fabric, rubbing his skin in small circles. She could feel the occasional lump or ridge of old scars crossing his back, and had to stop herself from tracing them. Snape was obviously reluctant for her to see them, and she didn't want to draw his attention too much to what she was doing, as she was rather enjoying the feeling of his warm skin and lean muscles under her palms.

Hermione dropped her legs from around Snape's thighs, as they were starting to ache again, and the change in position would give her hands new, uncharted areas to reach. She lifted her head again and reached up to kiss him once more as one hand snuck down over his bum and squeezed gently. Snape broke the kiss with a strangled sound, pushing himself up onto his elbows and gazing down at her, a strange, fierce look in his eyes as he began to thrust slightly harder than before.

She dropped her head back to the pillow beneath her and smiled nervously up at him, biting her lower lip as she continued to run her hands over his lower back and arse. The need to move her hips in time with his was building, and when she finally tied her pelvis and pushed into Snape's thrust they both moaned when he slid deeper than before. While the painful pinching feeling seemed to be disappearing, she was still a long way from the pleasure Snape had managed to create with his fingers.

They rocked together quietly for a short while, and soon Hermione became aware of the change in Snape's breathing. His head dropped to her shoulder, his breath tickling her skin, and he pressed harder into her. Hermione ran her hands up his back and down his arms, feeling the tension in the muscles hidden by the sleeves of his shirt. She preferred the touch of his skin under fingers, and when she got past his cuffs to his hands she tried to lace her fingers into his, needing to keep some connection with him as his pleasure took him somewhere she seemed unable to follow yet.

With a sudden growl, Snape pulled his hands from hers, only to pin her arms under his as he intertwined their fingers once again, leaving their conjoined hands on either side of her shoulders. Rather than feeling trapped, she found that she quite liked being restrained. She arched off the bed to meet his next thrust, pushing back against Snape as he began to speed up. A small seed of warmth began to grow inside her, spreading out slowly from between her legs. She gasped, unconsciously trying to angle her hips so that he would hit her clit every time he plunged back into her.

A second orgasm seemed beyond her though, as Snape was too far gone for her to be able to catch up. The muffled grunts coming from when he was still pressed into her neck told her his climax was near, and after a few more hard thrusts he began to shudder above her. His steady rhythm faltered, and stopped, and with a sigh he slumped on top of her, releasing her arms and after a moment she wrapped around him and held him tight when he didn't immediately roll off her.

They stayed unmoving for a short while and Hermione hugged him tight as he hid his face from her. It seemed to her to be a strange reversal of the way he had held her not long previous. She could feel the tension in his entire body and the slight tremble in his muscles, and she wondered what was going through his head in those moments. He was clearly having some difficulty. Maybe he hadn't enjoyed himself and wasn't sure how to proceed, or it could be for an entirely different reason. She started to stroke the back of his neck unconsciously, more to soothe herself than him.

As she lay there silently her mind was busy thinking about what they had just done. She was slightly disappointed she hadn't come again, but she hadn't really expected Snape to care enough about her pleasure to bring her to orgasm the first time. That had been unexpected. The way Snape was behaving towards her in general was more than unexpected. She'd known him for almost half her life, and her experience of his had always led her to believe that he was incapable of showing kindness or sympathy, and yet, the way he had treated her that day had shown her that he had hidden depths.

His dominance over her in that moment had made her feel somehow protected and cared for, although she'd never thought of herself as the type of woman who needed to reply on a man for such things. Perhaps it was the current situation making her feel that way. She was putting a lot of trust in him to keep her safe, and in such a way that she wouldn't even know that's what he was doing.

She couldn't deny though, that the feeling of him pinning her down had excited her in some way, and she wondered what that said about her. _Is there something wrong with me?_ She knew in the coming days, or even weeks, Snape was going to have to force himself on her. She felt sick at the thought that she might actually enjoy being raped in some way. Suddenly, completely overwhelmed by her emotions and the long day which had seen her bounce between utter despair and the heights of pleasure, she found herself crying again silently.

Hermione turned her head away from Snape, not wanting him to realise. She was sure he felt bad enough about the situation without her heaping more guilt on top. The remembrance that he'd had far worse happen to him than she'd had, helped her to get her emotions under control. What did she have to feel sorry about really? She had good friends, people who cared about her. This situation was in no way ideal, but in a way it was of her own choosing. He'd have been happier had she taken him up on his offer and left. But Snape… he had no friends, or at least those he'd had previously now thought the worst of him. Judging by what she'd been able to see of his back he'd dealt with a lot worse than being friendless as well. _How pathetic am I? He's been through far more and do you see him crying on you? He needs your sympathy, not your tears. He's seen enough of those already._ She tightened her hold on him with her arms and legs, pulling him closer.

Snape had now gone soft inside her and when she shifted slightly his cock slipped out. Hermione felt strangely cold and empty. The experience had been as painful as she'd imagined, but his gentleness had astounded her. She didn't know quite what to make of this new side of Snape that she had been introduced to. The new image of him that she was still constructing jarred horribly with the old, snarky version. She wanted to learn more, but would he let her?

Hermione heard him sigh heavily above her, before mumbling something quietly into her shoulder.

"What did you say?" she whispered back. "I can't hear you.

Pushing himself up, Snape rolled off her. Immediately she missed his weight upon her. She watched his face but he carefully avoided her eyes as he pulled the blanket up to her neck before turning over, away from her. At least he hadn't seen the tear tracks on her face. Hermione eyed his back with disappointment. She knew she'd left marks on his back and arse, and was hoping to get a glimpse. The latter had felt surprisingly good to squeeze, not that she had much experience of squeezing bottoms to compare with. Hermione wished he'd felt comfortable enough to take his shirt off. How much better would it have felt without the material in between their bodies?

Snape sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, letting the blanket fall round his waist. "I'm sorry," he said, putting his head in his hands and hiding his face. His body language spoke of guilt and shame. She wanted to hold him, but was unsure whether he would appreciated the gesture.

"Why? I'm not!" She sat up and moved closer to him, reaching out to touch him on the shoulder. He flinched at her touch but didn't turn to face her.

"Miss Granger, you do not have to pretend that…"

"In fact I rather enjoyed it…"

He looked up in surprise then, but still did not turn to look at her.

"… although I wish…" She stopped and bit her lip nervously. She was pretty sure he was being so formal and aloof because he felt horrible about what they had just done, and she wanted to reassure him. Perhaps he wouldn't accept comfort from her, but maybe she could give him some under the guise of him comforting her instead. After all, a hug went both ways. "…could you hold me some more."

"I need to get you a contraceptive potion…" he said, ignoring her words and making to stand up. "I have one that will last for a couple of months by stopping your menses completely. I think in this situation it would be best…"

Hermione lunged for his hand as he stood, grasping it in both of her own and leaving her half sprawled across the bed. Caught by surprise, he turned to face her.

"But you'll come back? Can I…? I want to sleep in your bed tonight. Or… Is it…? Do you need to… to obliviate me tonight?" She felt sick. She wasn't lying about needing him to hold her for a while, and hoped he hadn't planned on doing it till the morning.

Snape finally looked into her eyes, and she almost recoiled at the self-loathing in his expression before he looked away again. She held on to his hand though, and managed to twist herself so that she was sitting up. She was aware that the sheet had pooled around her waist, but couldn't bring herself to care. He was more important right now, and it was not anything he hadn't seen before. Or had in his mouth…

Hermione tugged on his hand gently. "Please…sir. I, I need…" To her horror, she could feel tears starting to well again. "Please…" she whispered one last time, lowering her face and letting go of his hand, allowing hers to drop to the bed.

She heard, rather than saw him leave, padding quietly across to the door that contained his lab. When it shut quietly with a click she let out the sob she had been holding back and threw herself face down on the bed, finally letting it all go and not trying to stop it.

In her misery, she didn't notice Snape return, until the bed depressed beside her, and an arm wrapped around her, getting turning her over.

"Please, Miss Granger. You must drink this."

Through her tears she could just make out the proffered phial. She nodded in agreement, and let him pull her into an upright position. She downed it quickly with his help, and soon felt a strange coolness spreading throughout her lower abdomen. When he left her again, she lay down, turning onto her side, away from him. She was still crying, but quietly now, sure that he had left her, and therefore she was shocked when she felt him lie down beside her once more.

Snape put a hesitant hand on her shoulder, and immediately she turned over, burying her face in his chest and digging her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. He put his arm around her, holding her awkwardly, as if he was not sure how to do it, but she ignored his discomfort and wriggled into his embrace as deep as she could. He was warm and gentle, two things she could never before have imagined him to be, and she found great comfort in being held by him.

Carefully, Snape reached down and pulled up the sheets, tucking them in around the both of them as best he could with one arm. As the warmth began to build up under the covers, Hermione began to grow drowsy. Slowly she uncurled her fingers from where they were still clenched in his shirt, and snuck one arm under his, so that she could press her palm against his back and hold him close. Snape stiffened slightly and seemed to hold his breath, but Hermione was beyond noticing.

"Thank you…" she whispered sleepily, as she started to doze.

At this Snape let out a sigh and seemed to relax somewhat. He rearranged the covers around her one last time before whispering "Nox," and settling down to sleep himself. His earthy, masculine scent, and the overwhelming feeling of being safe in his arms were the last things she remembered as she drifted off into oblivion.

 


	53. Chapter 53

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

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Hermione awoke early to find she had rolled over during the night, but hadn't left the safety of Snape's arms. They were pressed up tight against each other in the dark room, with his face nestled in her hair, and she could feel his soft breath ghosting across the back of her neck. She shifted slightly, trying to stretch her legs without disturbing him. Feeling her move in his sleep, Snape muttered something illegible and tightened his hold on her. Hermione smiled sleepily to herself and wriggled back against him, not noticing his breathing change.

She froze when she felt something pressing up against her backside. Is that…? She blushed deeply, sure she knew what it was. Boldly she tilted her hips and pushed into it again, and got a huge shock when Snape suddenly moved, rolling over and scrambling out of bed. The candles flared to light, bathing the room in a dim glow.

"Wha… what happened?" she asked groggily, turning to face him.

He was standing with his back to the bed, his head hanging down. From what she could see of his face it looked like he was frowning. She bit back a laugh, thinking that it looked like he was glaring down at his cock.

"I apologise, Miss Granger," he said stiffly, as he wordlessly cast the Tempus charm, the time appearing in the air beside him. It was only just past five am.

"Apologise? For wha…?"

He cut her off. "It is early, but we have much to do. Please prepare yourself."

The warm feeling of contentment that Hermione had felt waking up in his arms froze and left her, the thought of what was to come turning her stomach. Snape crossed the room to the wardrobe and pulled out a set of clothes identical to the ones he usually wore. She hated the way he had so suddenly withdrawn from her, his icy exterior having returned. She could see in the way he held himself that he was trying to distance himself from her. She wasn't ready for it yet.

She sat there, unsure of what to do as she had no clothes to put on, and watched him begin to dress, his back still turned to her. He threw on his trousers and started to unbutton his shirt. He had undone half the buttons before he seemed to remember she was there, and grabbing his clean shirt, swept quickly into the bathroom with barely a glance her way.

Hermione climbed out of bed, taking the topmost blanket with her, and wrapping it around herself like a towel. She padded silently across to the frock coat he had left hanging on the door of the wardrobe. It was clean, but it smelled strongly of him, and she had to fight the urge to bury herself in it. _What is wrong with me? Why do I need him so badly? This is not like me, I'm stronger than this._

Behind her, the bathroom door opened, and Snape reappeared, stopping in surprise as he found Hermione lost in contemplation of his coat.

"Is there a problem, Miss Granger?" he drawled, sounding more like his usual self. She moved back, shaking her head. Snape stepped up to her side and pulled his coat off the hanger. Pulling it on over his arms, he started to do it up. Hermione could almost see him retreat further into himself with every button, and she wished for the man who had comforted her so sweetly not long since to return.

Hermione was amused to see how long it took him to do up his coat. _Doesn't he know some spell to do that quickly?_ Taking her courage in her hands, she stepped over to him, reaching out to help with the buttons under him neck as she smiled shyly up at him. After a moment his hands dropped to his sides and he watched her cautiously as she ran her fingers around his collar. Her smile changed, one side of her mouth curling up in amusement.

"What?" he asked warily, as if he was not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"Oh, nothing, I was just thinking."

He was silent, although from the way he pressed his lips together tightly she knew he was not satisfied with her answer. Not wanting him to think she was laughing at him, she continued.

"You're a very different person from who you pretend to be." She peeked up at him, but he was just staring over her head, his jaw tense. Running her finger across the stiff material around his neck again, she went on. "You hide yourself away, convincing everyone for years that you're evil and mean, while all along you're secretly working to protect and save us all."

"And you find this funny, why?" he ground out from between clenched teeth.

"I don't… not really. It's just, well, I was…" she gabbled, before glancing up at him again. "It… umm, it occurred to me that how you dress is a good metaphor for... well, for you."

Snape arched an eyebrow mockingly, and Hermione dropped her gaze back to his collar, needlessly running hers hands over it as if to straighten it. "When people think of you, of how you look, they only remember the black coat and robes, just as how they see only the bad, never looking deeper to see if you are anything other than what you appear to be. But there's just the tiniest amount of white shirt peeping out of the top of your black collar and at your cuffs."

Her hands dropped to toy with the fabric at one wrist. "Barely a hint of the real person showing. If only someone took the time to notice... At the moment I assume you're glad no one has realised, but now that I know, it all seems so obvious. You saved us so many times… when you put yourself in between us and the werewolf, or when you tried to save Harry from Quirrell, and we never took any notice. But you were there… all along." She realised her mouth had run away with her, and snapped her jaw shut suddenly.

Snape grabbed her by the arms, taking a step back and holding her away. "Miss Granger, I am not…"

"No, don't say it. I don't want to hear you put yourself down, and try to tell me you've down nothing. Not when I know the truth." She looked into his eyes, willing him to see the truth about himself.

"I see you, Severus Snape. I know you're a good man, whatever you might have to say about it."

They stared at each other for a few moments in silence. Snape didn't seem to know what to say.

"You mentioned earlier that we had a lot to do…" she prodded gently.

"Yes... I…" He visibly pulled himself together. "You asked for a calming potion. I have a base already prepared that we can adapt to use for a tailored solution. You cannot be too calm, especially if and when you meet the Dark Lord, or he will be suspicious. Therefore, we cannot use a normal Calming Draught. There is a variant I know that will suffice, although it will need 3 drops of your blood." He had retreated back into his teaching persona, his safe place, but he hadn't moved away from her yet.

"How is this version different from the normal one?" she asked, always eager for new knowledge.

He smirked down at her. "This variation dampens your emotions to a lesser extent than the original, although it will hopefully be enough to prevent serious outbursts which, depending on the circumstances, you would most likely be disciplined for. The Dark Lord wants me to break you to ensure your compliance, and I am aware you have a… temper, and are not averse to lashing out physically."

Hermione coloured, thinking of how she had punched Draco in her third year. Snape continued. "The balance of this potion will be just right for our purposes. The other reason why I will be brewing this particular draught is because it also instead inhibits the emotion strength of your memories when they form. It does not block the memories, and you will still feel an emotional response to them, but you will not be as affected by them as you may be otherwise."

Hermione had listened eagerly. "I've never heard of this variation, who created it? Why would someone need to change the original into something so specific? Can I help you with the brewing? I'd like to…" she trailed off as she noticed his bemused expression. "What…?"

He glanced down at body for a second, and she coloured, suddenly remembering the state that she was in; wrapped in a blanket from his bed, hair all tangled. She hadn't even cleaned up after…. Well after what they'd done a few hours earlier.

"Can I… ummm?" She bit her lip, embarrassed.

"I know you are eager to expand your knowledge, but perhaps you would like to take a few moments to prepare yourself first. You may use the shower, if you wish." He gestured toward the bathroom.

"Oh, yes… Thank you," she replied. A shower sounded amazing.

"I will be in my laboratory, preparing, if you will to join me when you have finished." He stood, staring down at her for a few seconds, before turning suddenly and sweeping away into the lab.

Hermione grabbed the set of oversized robes that she had been wearing earlier, and dove into the bathroom. She had planned on taking a quick shower, but once under the water she was reluctant to leave. She quickly washed her hair before cleaning herself, wincing at the ache between her legs as she carefully wiped away the remains of dried blood. The hot water felt amazing, and she turned up the heat, thankful for the never-ending supply at Hogwarts, and enjoying the feeling of being clean, especially after so many months on the run. Thinking back to her appearance when she had woken, she realised that Snape must have cleaned her somehow before leaving her in his bed. Her cheeks burned with the recollection of waking up naked under his sheets, despite having been so intimate with him not so long ago.

Scrubbing her face with her hands and groaning with embarrassment, she thought back to how brazenly she had propositioned him. What must he think of her? The man obviously loved his solitude, but she had inserted herself so forcefully into his life, and all but demanded he have sex with her. Not that the experience had been bad, at least for her. He clearly didn't have much more experience than she, and she wondered whether he had enjoyed it at all, or if it had just been one more task he had to force himself to do. Either way, she couldn't be more grateful for everything, not just the sex and the kindness, but for the selfless way he had offered to let her leave, and then when she had refused, his promises that he would protect her. The notion that she could feel so safe with Severus Snape would have been unbelievable only a day ago.

Regretfully she turned off the water, wishing she could stay longer, but enticed into stepping out of the shower and onto the cold tiles by the thought of the potion that Snape had likely already started. She towelled herself dry as quickly as possible, running her fingers through the tangles in her hair and wishing for her brush. She reluctantly pulled it back into a low ponytail before wrapping Snape's robes around her once more and leaving the bathroom.

She found the door of Snape's lab still ajar, and put out her hand to push it fully open, but it never connected with the wood. A ward stopped her from entering, leaving a strange tingle in her fingers. Peering through the gap she could just about make out Snape, his back to the door. "Pro… er, Sir…? I can't…." She saw Snape's hand come up to wave absently, and the door suddenly swung open by itself. She took a cautious step forward, before entering the room when she found the ward gone.

Snape was busy toiling over a tray of ingredients, a simmering cauldron besides him. Hermione came up to stand near beside him, and quickly took stock of her surroundings. They were much as she would have expected from his own private laboratory – well organised, tidy, and scrupulously clean. The only cupboard at the end of the room that stood open was filled with shelves upon shelves of neat jars and phials of ingredients, only a few of which she could identify from that distance. Snape suddenly seemed to notice her, and pushed the open book which sat on the worktop along in front of her, indicating wordlessly that she should read it. He returned to his work again.

Hermione looked down at the book, which seemed to be a notebook filled with pages of Snape's scrawling writing. Fascinated, she read quickly through his notes on his variation of the potion, interested by the different steps he had taken before finding the correct ingredients and method. Upon finishing she found she had some questions, but was more interested in seeing what else the notebook contained. Quickly she flicked through, wanting to see if anything particular caught her eye. She'd was close to the back when a hand came down over hers, slamming the book shut. She looked up at him, her surprise making her forget the glimpse she had got of the last page.

Snape seemed rattled somehow, his face dark and anxious. She took a step back, half-expecting him to shout at her for prying, but after a moment of tense silence he growled, "Sit down." The notebook disappeared so quickly she wasn't sure whether he had magicked it away or not.

The potion took under an hour to compete. Hermione sat across from Snape at the workbench, listening attentively as he quickly described the whole process, before falling quiet once more, except occasionally to explain something further, or to ask her to fetch something. There were long periods of silence where she covertly watched the sure movements of his long fingers as he chopped and minced the ingredients, stirring the potion gently. She blushed as she remembered how those fingers had brushed gently across her skin, dipping in to stroke her most private places, mere hours before. Occasionally she would feel his gaze upon her, and would look up to see his dark eyes simmering with some indefinable emotion, before he would quickly return his attention to the potion, the faintest hint of red colouring his cheeks.

When he walked round the counter to gently prick her finger with a needle she was all too aware of how both of their hands trembled as they touched, then Snape retreated back quickly, dropping the precious few drops of red into the cauldron. A tight feeling seemed to settle deep under her ribs as Hermione watched him continue to work silently. There were no more explanations as to what he was doing.

Time both seemed to stand still and fly simultaneously, and suddenly he was turning off the burner and emptying the contents of the cauldron into small phials. Hermione realised that she had barely paid attention to what he had been doing, and if asked, would not be able to give any details of the brewing. Hopefully he would not expect her to.

Slowly she get up from her stool, wincing at the half-forgotten ache between her legs. Snape noticed her quiet gasp and looked up from his task.

"Forgive me, I didn't think…" He put down the now empty cauldron, and stoppering the final phial, stalked over to the far end of the room. He opened the cupboard on the end and pulled something out, before returning to Hermione and presenting her with a small bottle. She took it, not recognising the potion inside, and looked up at him in question. "It will heal you… uh, down there." He flushed again and turned from her, busying himself with packing the newly-made potion into a small wooden box, only leaving one on the worktop. She downed the contents on the bottle in her hand and sighed in relief as the ache between her legs faded.

"It is time, Miss Granger. We should not waste any more of this morning before…"

"…before beginning this charade. Yes, I know." She swallowed nervously, wishing she could be more courageous in the face of what was about to happen. "What about my books and notes?"

"I will take care of them. They will be put into a safe place until the next time you need them."

"So… what else do we need to do?" She cast her mind around to think of things that were yet to be discussed or decided.

"I believe everything is in order, unless you can think of anything you wish to ask."

"What about...uh… Where will I be sleeping? With you in your room? Or…"

"No, I will not inflict my presence on you in that way. I believe it would be better for you to have your own space."

"But where…"

"Come, Miss Granger." He swept from the room, taking the single phial with him. He was gone so quickly that he was opening the door into the hall as Hermione exited his lab. Once out of the bedroom Snape stopped. He pressed both hands to the wall and closed his eyes. Hermione paused in the doorway, watching him in bemusement and wondering what it was that he was doing, but when a door appeared in the wall next to him her mouth formed a silent 'o' of amazement.

"I didn't know you could do that," she breathed excitedly.

Snape stood up straight. "One of the privileges of being Headmaster of a sentient castle." He smirked, but the amusement didn't last long, and his face fell.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing, Miss Granger." He opened the door and ushered her through. The room was small and bare, except for a single bed and a chair, but she barely notice, only having eyes from the man who followed her in.

"It's obviously not just nothing. You look like you were just kicked in the stomach." Snape directed her towards the bed and she sank down onto it, still looking up at him for a reply.

He looked at her then as if incredulous that she would talk to him in such a way. Surprisingly though, he answered, turning his face from her enough that he could hide it behind the thick curtain of hair. "The castle will only respond to the rightful Head of the school. If it considers a person unworthy of the position they will find themselves unable to tap into its magic. They will not be able to adjust the wards, apparate on and off the grounds, or to do what you have just seen me do. Miss Granger, would you mind getting into bed."

Hermione complied even as she continued the conversation. Snape turned away as she pulled his robes from around her and slipped under the thin cover. "So that's why Umbridge was unable to get into Dumbledore's office. I remember Professor McGonagall being particular happy about that." Realisation dawned on her. "But… then surely she knows about the castle. Didn't she suspect anything when it didn't reject you?"

Snape risked a peep at her, and upon realising she was in the bed he came and sat down beside her. "No," he said bitterly, and Hermione realised this was at the heart of why he had seemed so downhearted a moment before. "She is either too stupid to realise, or she is too blinded by hatred of me to accept the castle's approval of my position. I know which one I believe it is."

"I'm so sorry. You deserve better." She reached a hand up to touch his cheek. "And now you're doing this for me, yet another horrible task forced upon you, and all along I'll hate you for it, hate you for keeping me safe and protecting me. And you'll have to bear it all by yourself." She brushed her thumb across the corner of his mouth. "How will you manage?" she asked sadly.

He pulled back from her slightly, his dark eyes unreadable. "As I always have."

His words sounded confident, but he suddenly seemed to have aged ten years before her eyes. She wanted to comfort him, but his body language told her he was unlikely to accept such a gesture.

"Are you ready, Miss Granger, or do you have anything else you wish to ask first?"

She paused, but her mind seemed to have gone blank with terror, and she could only shake her head at him. Her heart was suddenly pounding so loud and fast in her chest that she could barely breathe, and she felt like she was going to throw up.

Snape obviously could read something in her expression, for her quickly uncorked the phial in his hand and pressed it to her lips. "Drink, Miss Granger. It will help."

She allowed him to tip the contents into her mouth, and swallowed, all the while looking up into his eyes. His fingers lingered near her lips, but after a moment he cleared his throat and looked away, letting his hand fall into his lap, still holding the empty phial.

"How long should it take to work? I can't feel any change."

"It is already working, but you should not notice the effects. Tell me, are you still as worried as you were a few moments ago."

"Yes, I… I mean…" She thought for a moment, unsure suddenly what he meant. She could remember feeling anxious about what was to happen, but the memory was somehow unclear, as if it had happened long ago, rather than mere seconds. "Wha…what happened?"

He smiled gently down at her. "A few moments ago you were terrified, but now, even the memory of being so has been… softened, for want of a better word. I'm sure you can recall what I explained earlier about how the potion works. It has to be subtle enough not to attract attention. It took a long time to get the recipe just right."

"But why would you ever need to make such a thing? It's for a rather specific purpose, isn't it?"

"Perhaps that is a story for another day," he replied, and despite her curiosity she fell silent, something in his tone telling her he would not be forthcoming, no matter what she said.

Snape pulled a clean phial out of his pocket. "Unless you have any more questions, we should proceed."

"I… I'm ready, I think. What do I need to do?"

"Please lay back and relax. You must pull forward the memories you wish me to extract, I will do the rest."

He reached inside one cuff and drew his wand out. He lifted it towards her, but impulsively she caught him by the wrist, holding him still. She could feel the tension in the muscles under her fingers.

"Thank you, for everything."

"No thanks are necessary, Miss Granger. I only do what I must." he said stiffly.

Hermione stared up at him for a moment longer, then let go of his wrist, closing her eyes and and trying to relax as he pressed his wand against her temple.

"I can only hope that one day you will be able to forgive me." He whispered the words so quietly that she was unsure if he had meant her to hear them.

She opened her eyes one final time and smiled up at him tremulously. "I already did."

* * *

The memory clicked into place and Hermione fell forwards onto her hands and knees. _Oh my Gods… He did all that, for… for me! And I just left him there…_ She began to retch, unable to see anything but the contrast between the look of anguish on his face when she had forgiven him, and the almost peaceful mask he had worn as she had abandoned his dead body in the Shrieking Shack.


	54. Chapter 54

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Thanks for all the lovely reviews!

* * *

Pulling herself up off the floor, she glanced up at the clock. Barely a minute had passed since she had first pressed the memory to her temple, although it had seemed like an age. _You left him…_ a voice whispered in her head. _Ungrateful… He did so much for you, and yet you did nothing as he lay dying._

"I didn't know…" she whispered. Her heart seemed to constrict in her chest. Suddenly she could see the events of the last few weeks in a totally different light. So many times she had seen anger and disgust in his face, and thought it was for her. _But it was for himself, for what I forced him into doing. He hated every minute of it. And I told him I hated him, that I wished he was dead!_ She'd seen the fury in his face as he watched one of the Carrows torture a student, and thought it was because of Madame Pomphrey, or for the student himself. But now Hermione realised from the conversations she'd just remembered that instead he was fuming at his inability to be able to stop the mistreatment of the students under his care.

She couldn't pretend, even now, to understand everything he had done in his treatment of her, but knowing now his unwillingness to even agree to letting her stay, she was sure that he had only done what he thought was necessary to ensure both of their safety. There was only one thing she was certain of right then, and that was that she had no idea what her own feeling were regarding him. What am I supposed to think? _He raped me… but I asked him to. He kept me safe, even though it was torture for him. And… oh Gods, I wanted him, he made me want him! Or did I want him before…_

_Do I want him now…?_

And just how did he feel about her? She had previously been so sure that he had felt something for her. The man was obviously an excellent actor, but was he good enough to fake those sorts of emotions. Or had she just been deluding herself. The gentleness with which he had begun to treat her might just be his own way of dealing with what he had been force to do. He'd manipulated her into agreeing to do whatever he commanded. _He probably only wanted you to stop fighting him, so it was less hard on him. You've been encouraging his attentions. Perhaps that was his intention, so he didn't have to force himself on you. Or is there something more to his behaviour?_

The answer was not forthcoming, and she was sure it would take her some time to sort through her jumbled feelings. Maybe there would be something that would help her in the next memory.

Hermione looked over at where Harry was still emerged in Snape's memory. It could take him a while to view it all, depending on what Snape had decided to show him, but the reintroduction of her memories had taken mere seconds. The silence that had suuround the castle since the ceasefire felt eerie, although she could occasionally feel the castle shudder and groan beneath her feet. _No time to think. I've got to hurry._ She reached for the next phial, quickly pulling the memory out with her wand and putting it to her temple.

* * *

As she awoke she immediately became aware of a dark figure leaning over her. She gasped and scrambled across the bed to get away from him. _No, not again, please…_

Snape's mouth tightened in irritation. "I am not going to touch you Miss Granger. Please put this on and follow me. There are things you must see."

She looked at him uncertainly, wondering what he wanted. _Miss Granger… He never calls me that. What's going on?_

Snape thrust the robes in his hands towards her, and she took them from him automatically. Whatever was going on, she was sure it would be better for her if she did as was asked. The pain of the Cruciatus was fresh in her mind, and she didn't want to risk displeasing him. She wrapped the robes around her and stood. He beckoned for her to follow, and she did without complaint. Her surprise when he led her down her hall and into his office was great.

She stood in front of his desk, peering around curiously. The previous Heads of the school were all looking down at her curiously, except for Dumbledore, who was snoring quietly. She frowned in disappointment, wondering what he must have thought about the man who had murdered him taking his place as Headmaster. The rest of the portraits seemed to be stern and disapproving as they watched her. She turned back to Snape, standing behind his desk in an effort to forget all the eyes on her. He seemed strangely ill at ease, his hands twisting nervously in his robes. _Why is he acting so strange?_

"Miss Granger," he began, "I… There is something you must see, that will help you to understand why you are here, at Hogwarts." He gestured to the desk in front of him, and for the first time she noticed the silvery grey bowl sitting on the top.

 _A pensieve… what could he possibly want me to see in there?_ She opened her mouth to speak but he quickly cut her off.

"Please… I ask that you leave all questions until after you have viewed your memories."

_Mine…? My memories? Why would Snape…?_

"Many things will be made clear to you, which would otherwise take far too long to explain. You may ask anything you wish of me afterwards. Is this acceptable?"

The fact that he was asking her to do this, rather than forcing her made her pause in her desperate wish to ask what was going on, and she nodded her acquiescence. Snape seemed relieved, if her efforts at reading him were correct.

"When you are ready." He waved at the pensieve, and cautiously she stepped forward. She'd read up about pensieves when she'd first heard of them, and she knew the theory, but had never used one herself. She lowered her face to the liquid ad was pulled in.

Memories swam before her eyes, her initial disbelief soon replaced with horror at what she had forced him into doing to keep her safe. It's all my fault… why didn't I just watch where I was going? The horror faded slowly, a pervading sense of gratefulness and appreciation for everything he had done for her spread through her, and relief that he was not the bastard that he had seemed for the past seven years. Finally, worry set in. Worry for him, for everything he had been through, just for her.

She was watching herself research horcruxes when the memory suddenly ended, and she found herself back in the study. Snape had sat down at the desk while she had been gone. There were sheets of parchment spread in front of him, but he was ignoring them, his head in his hands and his face a sickly grey.

Quietly she stepped around the desk, her soft footsteps on the bare stone not enough to attract his notice. She looked down at him for a moment, feeling a strange surge of affection rolling through her. She reached out and touched him gently on the shoulder.

"Professor…" she whispered, "Are you ok?"

He looked up at her, and she could see the self-loathing in his eyes. Suddenly he stood, pushing her aside and bolting around the side of the desk. He dropped to his knees and grabbed the bin, his whole body heaving. Hermione followed him quickly and grabbed his hair as her mother had done for her years ago when she'd been sick. It took Snape a minute or so to stop throwing up into the bin, and once he seemed sure he had finished he pulled his wand from his sleeve and vanished the contents of the bin. Hermione quickly let go of his hair and stepped back, sure that he would not want her to crowd him.

He hauled himself to his feet using the desk, before conjuring a glass of water, which he drank half of, and set the rest down. He had not yet looked at her.

"Professor…" she said again.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Granger," he said roughly. "I'm sorry. I had to… The Dark Lord, he wants to see…"

She stepped forward and put her hand on his arm. "I understand, It's ok… I'm ok," she said quickly, not sure whether she was telling him the truth, but knowing that he needed to hear it. He was just as much a victim of the circumstances as she, and perhaps more, as she knew instinctively that he blamed himself for everything.

She needed to distract him. "Please sir, I have some questions…"

A couple of hours later she was bathed and clean, and sitting across from him in his library. He had answered all the questions he had been able to, and had explained why he was unable to answer the rest. Dumbledore had woken up and spoken to her too, although she had not been impressed to find out that he had actually forced Snape into killing him. And had told the old bastard to his face too. Hermione smothered a giggle at the memory of Snape's face when she'd berated the portrait.

Snape turned from the fire and looked at her quizzically. She shook her head slightly, before smiling shyly across at him. He didn't return her smile, and she almost laughed at how unsure he suddenly looked. He returned his attention to the fire, and they sat there in awkward silence for a few minutes until Hermione yawned.

"Perhaps it is best if you go to bed. You will have a long day tomorrow."

Hermione had been dreading this moment. She was strangely unwilling to leave him, knowing she would not be able to sleep easy with all her new knowledge flowing through her head. She felt vulnerable in a way she hadn't even when she'd been completely at his mercy, but she didn't expect him to be happy to let her stay with him. How was she even to ask such a thing of him?

"Yes, maybe I will…" she sighed, pushing herself up out of her chair. She walked slowly towards the door, lost in her own thoughts, and reached out to turn the handle. She pulled the door open an inch, then paused and turned, intending to say goodnight. Snape was right behind her, and she squealed in surprise, jumping back.

"I thought perhaps you would like to use my room this evening, it is far more comfortable than your own." He obviously mistook the way her face lifted in hope for worry for he continued quickly. "Of course I will take your room, you needn't worry… what's wrong?" he asked, concerned by the way her eyes had suddenly filled with tears.

"Oh, it's nothing," she tried to say brightly, but he was having none of it.

"Miss Granger, it is clearly not nothing. Please… tell me, I wish… let me do what I can to help."

"I… it's just… I'm scared," she whispered tremulously, her head lowered in mortification. "I want… I…" She trailed off, unable to ask him.

Snape stepped forward and touched her lightly on the shoulder, and she flew at him, wrapping her arms around him. Snape stiffened, but after a moment laid his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back enough so that he could see her face. "Tell me, if I can do it I will."

"Please… don't leave me… I don't want to be alone."

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll be right across the hall…"

"No, I mean…" she bit her bottom lip, wishing it was not so hard to ask. She was not even sure why she was so desperate to keep him with her. Only a few hours ago she had thought only the worst of this man, and would have been ecstatic to never have to see him again, and now she was beyond desperate to stay by his side. Perhaps the whole situation had sent her insane. This was certainly not normal behaviour.

Snape waited patiently, obviously not prepared to let it go until she told him what she wanted.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him. "I want to stay with you… in the same room. I don't want to sleep by myself…" she pleaded.

* * *

The next morning found her tucked up in his study before the open fire, with a large tome on her lap, and a quill and parchment balanced on a writing board on the arm of the chair. Her research had been going well, up until the moment Snape had appeared and settled into the chair opposite. She'd been distracted by thoughts of him ever since.

He'd been completely taken aback by her request the night before, and he had taken some convincing to be sure that it was really what she wanted. He'd been a complete gentleman, of course, letting her prepare herself for bed first, and giving her one of his white shirts to sleep in. She was starting to doze by the time he climbed into the cot he'd transfigured from a chair. She'd been glad of his consideration – she'd wanted to stay with him, but wasn't sure that she would have been able to cope with any closer contact. Her feelings concerning him were far too mixed up to allow it. They still were.

How was she to behave in such a situation? Her memories of him contrasted so sharply against each other; The man who'd abused and tormented her, and the one who'd saved her and made her his responsibility, who would have preferred to be punished rather than commit such heinous crimes against her; who couldn't be more disgusted by the actions she'd forced him into taking, by her own stupidity in getting caught, and who was calmly currently sitting across from her, intent on the book in his own lap, as if nothing had ever happened. He was so composed. Last night he'd been sick with what she could only guess was anxiety, but today? _How can someone have that much self-control?_

"I apologise, Miss Granger." His voice cut through the silence suddenly, making her jump. She looked up at him in confusion. "Your arm…." He paused, and she followed his gaze down to where she was unconsciously rubbing the word that had been scored into her skin. How long had he been watching her?

"It's not your fault," she shrugged, the tremor in her voice betraying the feigned nonchalance she was striving for. The agony was all too fresh, and coupled with the terror of being pinned under a gaunt-looking Lucius Malfoy, hell bent on getting his revenge on her, it was no surprise that the calming draught Snape had forced upon her wasn't enough to stop the memory from affecting her. "Is there no way to heal it?"

"I did as much as I could last night. The spell I used would have healed most things, but that blade of Bella's is a nasty thing. There are many layers of curses upon it, many of them old and particularly unpleasant. You were lucky I was there to do what I could. I have seen wounds inflicted by that blade fester and blacken quickly with a little time. Not even the healers at St Mungo's could do more, unless they had a deeper understanding of the Dark Arts than I. If you had been left to them you would have likely lost the whole arm to stop the spread."

Hermione's stomach clenched with horror and she had to fight down the bile rising in her throat. She'd had no idea of how bad it could have been. Snape continued without noticing her distress.

"I should have been there to stop it. I promised I would protect you and already I have let you down. The Dark Lord… he said… I should have known better than to leave you alone. I should have found a way to persuade the Dark Lord that it was not necessary."

"V… He ordered them to do this to me?" She was shaking all over. "You knew they were going to do this to me?" Her voice had risen towards the end and she could feel herself coming apart.

Snape was in front of her in one swift movement, kneeling before her as he held a phial to her lips. "Drink it, Miss Granger. I should have realised you may have needed more than a single dose."

She tried to push his hand away, but he wouldn't let her, tipping the liquid into her mouth. She choked slightly as it went down. Snape shifted so he could pat her gently on the back.

"I knew none of the details, or even that anything was to happen to you that evening. The Dark Lord informed me he had an idea concerning you. I didn't know… but I should have." Snape's voice was low and bitter, and he seemed to be talking to himself more than to her. "I've been around them all long enough to guess at the sort of thing that would happen to you. I should never have agreed to leaving you alone for so long."

She glanced at him, and he looked so pained she knew he was telling only the truth. "It wasn't your fault," she said calmly, reaching for his cheek with her small fingers. "You couldn't have known." Perhaps it was her imagination, but she was sure that for a moment Snape pressed back against her hand. Their eyes met for the briefest of seconds and then suddenly he was gone, halfway across the room before she could barely blink.

"I will send Tiggy in to you in an hour or so for lunch. I will be in my lab if you need me." He strode from the room, leaving her speechless.

She tried to return her attention to the book in front of her, but that last image of his face kept swimming up before her eyes. His anguish was almost tangible, but it was the tiny glimmer of longing in his expression that had her perplexed. What was it he yearned for? In all the years she'd known him she'd never thought of him beyond a wary suspicion of his loyalty, but now she knew more of him she was beginning to wonder more about his motives. What was it that drove him? Why was he so devoted to the cause that he was willing to do such things, to place himself in such a dangerous position between Dumbledore and Voldemort?

All her musings came up with nothing, although she realised at some point that perhaps he had shown her already, back in the dungeon under Malfoy Manor. She had been shocked by something he had shown her to convince her what side he was on, but he hadn't let her see it again. If only she could remember…

By that evening she'd actually managed to get a decent amount done, finally settling down into her research after a quiet lunch by herself in the library. Snape hadn't appeared until she'd gone looking for him at suppertime. The moment she'd touched the door handle to enter his lab the door had swung open and he'd stepped out, as if waiting for her. The way he'd been so surprised that she'd arranged dinner for the both of them had been strangely endearing, as had the wrinkles around his eyes that had appeared when he'd noticed she'd asked his elf to serve his favourites. He'd not seemed to know how to react, and she'd felt her stomach drop as she realised it was because he was unused to people doing nice things for him.

The meal had been mainly silent, except for a few inquiries about how the other's day had been. The quiet had not felt uncomfortable though, and they both were content just to enjoy each other's presence without the need for conversation. Snape actually seemed to be relaxed enough to let his mouth curl up slightly when their eyes met across the table. She'd never seen him look so happy.

A few hours later the mood had changed once again as she'd tidied away her books and notes, and he'd led her back to his bedroom. He looked so lost and alone as he'd sat down on the bed next to her that her heart twisted in her chest. He had good reason to look such a way, she realised. In a few minutes he would once again be alone with all the burdens he carried, with no one to understand, only people to hate him for what he had done. _She_ would hate him once more.

Hermione watched as he slowly reached into a pocket and drew out two phials, one empty and the other filled with a sleeping potion that he had told her would last until morning. He moved to uncork it, but before he managed to pull the stopper from the narrow neck, she impulsively threw herself across his lap, her arms around his neck, wishing fervently that she could wipe the sadness from his face.

Snape was stiff beneath her, and she was surprised he didn't push her away. After a few moments when he didn't move she began to feel awkward, and started to pull away, but Snape suddenly gripped her tight, not letting her move. He pressed his face to the top of her head, and took a deep, shuddering breath. Hermione relaxed back against his chest and let him hold her for as long he needed.


	55. Chapter 55

Disclaimer: See Chapter One

* * *

The memory slid into place, and Hermione sagged back against the cold stone step for a moment and shut her eyes. The feel of her lips against his was so strong for a second it could have just happened, instead of being weeks ago. Hermione traced her bottom lip absently as she recalled the moments leading up to the kiss she had stolen from him. How he had warned her things would likely get worse, and how he had held her tighter when she had promised him she would always forgive him.

When she'd pulled back from his embrace to see the soft and hopeful expression in his eyes, she'd been unable to stop herself from reaching up and pressing her mouth to his. He'd not known how to respond, his awkwardness endearing him even more to her. The memory had ended with him urging her to lie back against his pillow, and the last thing she could remember was his forlorn expression as she felt the tip of her wand touch her temple.

 _No time…_ With a sigh Hermione pulled herself out of her recollections, and reached towards the next phial.

* * *

"Because it is necessary, Miss Granger…" The words resounded in her head as she fled. She had nowhere to run, not really, nowhere where she could get away from him, but there was one room that he had never set foot in since she had arrived, where she felt marginally safer than elsewhere. It was there that she went, pushing the kitchen door open and racing across the room, she threw herself into the corner below the sink.

She drew her feet up and wrapped her arms around her legs, her face falling onto her knees. Hot tears pooled on her skin and ran down her legs. "I'll never forgive him… never, never, _never…,_ " she whispered to herself. It was a lie and she knew it, but in that moment she needed something to focus her anger on before she exploded.

She'd almost attacked him back in his office, needing to find a vent for the fury that had built while watching her memories. How could he be so calm and unemotional about the whole thing, if in fact he was truly on the same side as her? How could he treat her so badly and it not affect him? She could almost see the dispassionate, almost bored look on his face as he had stood over her and tortured her, the eager way he had forced her legs apart and pushed himself inside her. It all seemed to come too easy to him to be an act.

 _That's not fair…_ She'd seen his anguish over what he had done to her, when he had been able to let his guard down. If it was not for Snape's capability to perform the expected role, and deceive both her and ultimately Voldemort, then both he and probably she and her friends would have been dead long ago. Still, after all she had been through in the past few days, the terror of being taken back to Malfoy Manor, the way Snape had made her feel dirty and disgusted with her own needs, especially after his strange gentleness towards her, it felt good to allow herself to feel her rage, after so long keeping it muted for fear of him.

 _What the hell has he been playing at anyway?_ She couldn't remember agreeing to let him treat her like that in any of the memories she had just seen. Why had he been so tender with her when Voldemort would be able to see it? Why had he forced her to desire him? _But you told him you trusted him to make the best decisions for the both of you… and no one can force someone to desire them. You did that by yourself._ And he'd told Voldemort he was having difficulty forcing himself on her. Was she really so unattractive?

Such thoughts swirled around her head for what seemed like hours. How long she sat there she didn't know, but eventually her tears ran out, and the overwhelming anger she'd felt dissipated with them. Feeling drained after her outburst, she propped her chin on her damp knees, now able to think more clearly.

That was how Snape found her a short while later, calmly contemplating the situation they had both found themselves in. Now she had calmed down she was able to rationalise many of the things Snape had done to her, even if the memory of them was still painful. There were still things she wanted to ask, but she wasn't sure how far she could press him for answers, he had seemed even surlier than usual earlier in his office. Better to let him volunteer the information.

Snape stopped in front of her and held out his hand. She looked up, unsure of what he wanted with her. His face was softer than before, in his study, where it had been a frozen mask. Now he was a strange mix of anxious and sad.

"Miss Granger, I have ordered dinner to be served in the library, and once you have eaten we can discuss what you wish to know."

Hermione could have hugged him for the offer. She grabbed his hand, and used it to pull herself up slowly, her muscles aching from being sat in the same position for so long. She took a step towards the dark man, whose face suddenly turned wary at her closeness.

"It's alright, you don't need to explain anything. I understand… you do what you have to do… to protect us both." As much as she'd wanted an explanation only a minute ago, she found that the mere offer of one had taken away her need for it. She _did_ trust him after all.

The look on Snape's face was priceless, and she had to bit her lip from grinning at him. He gaped for a moment before pulling himself together to reply.

"Miss Granger..." His hands came up to rest gently on her upper arms. "I… I need to explain. There are things… I need you to understand."

She could only smile up at him.

A while later Hermione was sitting across from him at his desk, an empty bowl of soup and a few crumbs that were all that was left of a hunk of bread in front of her. She waited impatiently as Snape continued to eat his own soup, and had to make a concerted effort not to watch the graceful way his hands brought the spoon to his mouth. She could feel her cheeks glowing slightly. What is wrong with you? He's just eating soup.

Everything about the man was elegant and so controlled though, it was hard not to find him attractive, despite the fact he was not classically handsome. Hermione thought about the way she had scoffed her own bowl quickly. She'd been surprised at how hungry she was, although perhaps she shouldn't have been, considering he'd not allowed her to eat anything before going to the Malfoy's house. Even that made sense now, even though at the time she'd though he was just denying her for the pleasure of it. She was grateful not to have had anything in her stomach when Voldemort had Crucio'd her. Hermione squirmed uncomfortably in her seat at the remembrance. It had hurt far more than when Snape had cast the same spell on her. Perhaps his wasn't as strong because he struggled with his intent. How had he managed to be resolute enough to cast the killing curse at Dumbledore?

With a small sigh Snape put his spoon down. His bowl was still unfinished. "I can see by your wriggling it is a miracle you have managed to hold back the questions until now." He stood and moved towards the chairs by the fire, motioning for her to do the same. "Ask what you will, and I will do my best to answer."

Hermione settled across from him, taking a moment to find a comfortable position while she thought of how to begin. She decided to go for the least personal questions first.

"The other day… you were injured, what happened to you?"

Snape's demeanour turned cold and angry. "I managed to persuade the Dark Lord that the Carrows were rather over-eager with their punishments, and that the continued loss of students and consequently the disappearance of their families is a serious concern. Alecto and Amycus were rather… resentful of my taking their fun away from them. They meant for me to see that little display in the courtyard, believing that they would get away with it." He looked straight at her for the first time since he had begun talking. "The Dark Lord is unimpressed with my efforts at dealing with your fellow Gryffindors. There is a particular group causing problems, and the Carrows managed to catch the leader trying to break into my office before I could reach him."

"Who was it?" she breathed, half sure she knew already.

"Longbottom."

"Oh Gods, is he ok?"

"He was in a bad way, but I managed to slip him something to deal with the after-effects of the Cruciatus curse when Poppy wasn't looking. He has already recovered and has disappeared back into the Room of Requirement with the rest of his cohorts."

"But how did you end up injured?" she asked, confused.

A couple more students disappeared the next day, as have their families. I brought this to the Dark Lord's attention. The Carrows blamed me for their punishment, and managed to catch me when I was unprepared for an attack. They are both true cowards, unwilling to face me, but happy to use the children to hide behind. I managed to convince them they had been unsuccessful in injuring me, and got back to my rooms without further incident. You know the rest."

Hermione's cheeks burned as she remembered what had happened upon finding him, injured, and from the way Snape's cheeks were colouring so was she. Hermione's gaze was drawn to his lips, in much the same way it had a few nights previous. She wondered what he would do it she ran her fingers across them again right now. How would he respond if she kissed him?

 _Stupid, Hermione, you know he'd never want such a thing. He's uncomfortable enough with this as it is._ She could no longer deny to herself at least, that she was becoming rather attached to the Dark Wizard opposite her. _Attached my arse, you fancy the pants off him. Mustn't let on though. He'd probably think there was something wrong with you, after the way he's treated you. He'll think you're some kind of masochist. Besides, what would he want with someone like you?_ She tried to ignore the tight feeling in her chest.

That train of thought reminded her of her next question. "Later on, after… when you were recovered, you were rather… gentle with me. Why… Aren't you worried about what You-know-will think?

"At the time I found myself… unconcerned…" He couldn't meet her eyes as he replied. "I… The Dark Lord was easily persuaded that it was all part of my plan to… to unbalance you. He still believes that you can be used to find Potter."

Something in his demeanour told her there was more. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

Snape shifted uncomfortably and she knew she was right. "You heard something you were not supposed to hear during a conversation with the Dark Lord. He wishes you turned to his cause."

"What?!" she screeched, jumping up out of her chair. "You agreed to this? And what about my blood status? I'm a mudblood, if you hadn't remembered." She wrenched her sleeve back and shoved it the scarred skin under his nose.

Snape stood quickly, gently pressing her arm down until it hung at her side. He loomed over her. "Do you really think I could refuse the Dark Lord?" he asked with a sneer. "He was impressed by your power, and has heard much from Lucius and others about you intelligence. He knows Potter would have got nowhere without you. If he chose to acknowledge you, everyone would be forced to follow."

"But…why? Why don't I remember this? " She pressed her hands to his chest.

"I was forced to remove the memory, permanently I'm afraid."

"You… why couldn't you have saved it like the others."

"The memory itself was unimportant, and my own memory of taking yours was… useful. It is difficult to construct memories to show him, this is the whole point of performing this whole charade. Anything I can use to show him of my compliance with him wishes I will take without question." He moved his hands to her upper arms and squeezed gently. "Maintaining our cover is my first concern. You must trust me to find a way to make sure your loyalties are not forced to him." He leaned in closer, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I promise he will not have you."

Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him. "But if he wants…"

"I will find some way around it. I will make you mine, bind you to me if I must."

Hermione felt a wave of desire rush through her at his words, although rationally she knew he only was talking about protecting her. He was so close now that she was having difficulty breathing properly. It wouldn't have taken much for her to reach up and press her lips to his.

"And what you told _him_ , about me… that I looked…" She swallowed her next words, afraid to ask if he had meant what he had said about desiring her. "What reasons did you give him… for your plan?"

"That I was trying to keep you off-balance and unsure of my behaviour, to encourage you to please me and improve your own situation." His gaze flicked down to her lips for a second. "I convinced him that you are… attracted to me, that I can exploit your feelings and persuade you to join him."

The heat coursing through her suddenly abated and she shivered. His behaviour… just a ruse to con Voldemort. She was right, he felt nothing for her. Even now he was only trying to comfort her. Thinking back over the memories she had seen a short while ago, it wasn't the first time he had held her in an attempt to reassure her.

She stepped back, turning her face away, suddenly desperate to be out of his reach and missing the flash of disappointment that crossed his face. Her heart felt heavy in her chest and she wanted nothing more than to be alone. By the time she looked back his expression was blank once more.

"I think I'd like to get on with my work now, please."

He blinked in surprise, obviously expecting more questions, but recovered quickly. "Of course. Your books and notes are in here." He crossed the room, pulling open a cupboard that she had not noticed before and used his wand to send a pile of tomes and parchment across to the desk.

"Is there anything else you require, Miss Granger?" He spoke coolly.

"I… I don't think so."

"Very well. If you require me I will be in my office. Please do not forget to ask if you need access to a any books that are dangerous or warded." He swept from the room.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, before walking to the desk and settling down in the chair. She knew she had much to do, but his words kept swirling around in her head, and it was a long time before she could concentrate on the work in front of her.

* * *

 

Hermione shuddered. She didn't think she'd ever get used to the feeling of the way her memories slotted back into place. At least it wasn't painful, but she'd never be able to describe the sensation as pleasant. It was strange, suddenly finding herself with memories that felt like they had been there all along, when the two sets of memories she had of her time with him were so at odds with each other. Even knowing what she knew now it was hard to equate the man who tortured her so callously with the one who held her so gently when she needed reassurance.

He hadn't seemed to be able to stop himself seeking out her company over the weekend in the memories she had just reintegrated into her head. He'd wandered back into the library a few hours later to remind her of the late hour. It was only then that she'd realised just how tired she was, and they had both soon after retired for the evening. Snape had transfigured a cot for himself while she'd slept in his bed once again. He'd told her then that he hoped to give her the whole weekend to work, as Voldemort had informed him he was going abroad and they wouldn't be called for at least a fortnight.

They had barely spoken all the next day, except at mealtimes, but whenever Snape had excused himself, citing some pressing work to complete or matters to attend to, he had always appeared again shortly after, settling into the armchair that she thought of as his, while Hermione herself had alternated between working at the desk and in the armchair she favoured.

She'd felt him watching her, but instead being irritated by it, she'd found his presence comforting. She was so used to the boys constantly asking her questions when she was trying to work, that it was a pleasant change to be in company with someone who was capable of sitting quietly, even if he wasn't actually reading his book as intently as he appeared to be when she occasionally glanced up at him. She'd wondered why he sought her out so consistently, only to be silent. What was it he'd wanted?

The next day had gone much the same way, the only difference being when Snape had asked her for another sample of her blood to make up some more of the calming draught. However, as the day had drawn on Snape had become more and more restless, snapping at her when she'd eventually asked what was wrong. He'd apologised later, as she lay in her own bed, although he'd still refused to explain why he was clearly in such a bad mood.

She'd forgiven him anyway, and managed to stay calm even when he'd explained how he would have to go through the motions of testing her reaction to the Cruciatus curse. He'd looked so miserable that she'd lent forward to kiss him on the cheek, whispering her thanks. The look on his face only made her wish there was more she could do. His behaviour all day had suddenly made sense as she realised he'd been dreading taking her memories once more.

* * *

Hermione looked at the now shorter row of phials still waiting for her and reached out for one. She paused for a moment as there was an ominously loud rumble. The whole castle shook around her. Knowing the battle was on hold, for the moment at least, she could only assume some damaged part of the building somewhere had collapsed. She squeezed her eyes tight through the worst of the tremors, only opening them once the floor had stopped shuddering.

The phials still sat neatly before her. She grabbed the next one and opened it.

Mere seconds later she was in possession of another one of her memories, and she cringed at the recollection of lashing out at him while he just stood there and accepted her fury as if he believed he deserved it. He'd eventually restrained her, apologising and explaining why he had gone searching for a memory that Voldemort had mentioned and found the one of her masturbating in the bath.

Hermione groaned, rubbing her face with her hands tiredly, the shame of that day just as vivid as when it had happened. I can't believe he saw that… The end of the memory had been interesting. She'd figured out the possible identity of one of the horcruxes and had spoken to Dumbledore about meeting Harry. Perhaps she'd get to see that in the next memory. She picked up another phial.

The new memory spun and settled in her head. The thought of going to meet the boys on the beach made her smile. They'd been so concerned about where she'd been, and had tried their hardest to persuade her to stay with them. That dream she'd had however…. Hermione shuddered. Strange how prophetic it had turned out to be. Not the part where Voldemort had found out Snape was a traitor to his cause, but how the snake had attacked her, sinking it's fangs into her neck. The dream had been horribly vivid… though no way near as terrifying as actually watching Snape die.

Hermione had to fight down the rising bile in her throat. _I can't believe he's dead. After all he did for us, all those years, he'll never see any recognition for it._ She could feel the tears building in her eyes. _No… there'll be time to cry later. Keep going Hermione._ She sighed and reached out her hand again.

A moment of disorientation and she was one more step towards filling in the blank spots in her memory. _Well at least I know now why I agreed to make that promise to obey him so quickly…_ But the emotions… they'd all been hers. Amplified, yes, by the potion she'd spent ages convincing him to give her, but they'd been there in the first place.

She'd been lucky that time, he'd managed to calm her down enough to get some reason out of her, then something she'd said had triggered one of the best ideas he'd had since the whole thing began. _Why the hell didn't he think of the time turner earlier? It could have saved us all that effort in trying to convince both me and Voldemort that I was still losing memories!_

At least it had given her time to ask both Snape and Dumbledore as many questions as she'd needed to ask for her own peace of mind. Snape had also explained how Voldemort was getting impatient with her progress and was urging him to move faster with converting her. Her own idea had been almost as genius as his, although it had been influenced not only by the strange way Snape made her feel safe, even when she believed him to be bad, but by her intensifying feelings for him. She'd been rightly confused and worried about how she seemed to be falling for the man under such circumstances, but considering the alternatives, the lust potion was the best option.

Snape had been almost horrified at her plan, and hadn't agreed at first. He'd barely been able to look at her either. She'd taken some time trying to convince him how much better it would be for the both of them if she wasn't fighting him. She argued that if he had more control over her, Voldemort would be pleased, and perhaps not require Snape to punish her, especially if he believed her loyalty was wavering. And at least she would be tied to Snape, not to Voldemort. Snape would be able to release her from any instructions she had been given at a later date.

Snape had then come up with one last objection: the potion itself. A love potion would be too strong, too obvious. She would turn into a simpering fool, and Voldemort would realise straight away what had happened. Hermione had blushed fiercely as she replied that a lust potion would work instead. Snape knew as well as she did, that the potion would only enhance emotions that were already there, and by suggesting such a thing she was basically declaring that she had feelings for him.

The expression on his face had been so pained at this admission that her heart had sunk, and believing he was repelled by the thought she had quickly spoken up again, reminding him that many of his actions over the past few weeks had been designed to make her lust for him. She had kept quiet about the fact that her feelings for him were slightly more complicated than just that, as she still didn't know quite what they were herself.

Unable to look at her still, but out of arguments, Snape had finally relented. He'd left her shortly after to make a quick patrol around the castle, saying he wanted to check on the Carrows, as they were adept at knowing when he was out of the castle and taking advantage. Hermione had thought it an excuse to escape from her presence for a while, although she hadn't minded, feeling rather awkward about her admission. Snape had returned to find her immersed in the first of her removed memories. He'd almost kissed her then, but she'd pulled back. After taking the potion she'd had no qualms about her kissing her, she'd begged him to do so in fact. And then he'd taken her memories once more.


	56. Chapter 56

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

I really will get around to reply to reviews, but I'm trying up the second to last chapter, and it's getting long.

* * *

Hermione sighed in relief as she realised the books she believed she had ruined had only been glamoured by Snape, just as they had discussed. And the rest of her plan had worked so well too. It had barely taken Snape a day to manipulate her into promising to obey him. No wonder she'd gone weak at the knees every time he had come near her, the lust potion had worked better than even she had though possible.

Hermione leant back against the step, her head spinning. If the lust potion only worked with emotions that were there already, then what did that say about how she felt for the dark wizard when she'd been barely able to function for thinking of him once she'd taken the potion? The memory of him calling her his 'good girl' still made heat pool between her legs.

And if everything he had done had merely been part of the plan, then what about his feelings for her? Just a few hours ago, before all this madness started, she had been so sure that he wanted her. _Was it all just an act? Did he do it all just to protect me?_ He had certainly been in a position to have her if he had wanted her, and yet he had kept his distance as soon as he had got the promises he needed from her? Yes, he had kissed her, sometimes when he hadn't needed to, and so gently and passionately at times, but he'd known she would have welcomed his advances, yet he hadn't been interested.

Tears began to track silently down her cheeks, but she barely notice, so caught up in the remembrance of how desperate she had been to please him that same night she had promised to do her best to be good for him. She could recall how she'd thought of it as her first time, the first time she had been a willing partner at least. But of course it wasn't. He'd taken her virginity so gently weeks before, but she'd had no idea at the time that such a thing had happened, and not have even thought it possible for Snape to have been so tender. He'd done so much for her, and she'd just let him die. Why the hell had she not thought to do something at the time?

Hermione looked at the single phial now sitting in front of her. She wasn't sure if she could take any more. Every memory she put back just made her feel worse, everything Snape had put himself through becoming more obvious with each one. She picked up the phial and swirled it thoughtfully through the tears still standing in her eyes. She owed it to him to finish, to know the full extent of everything he had done, just for her, to know how much she had lost with his death. She reluctantly uncorked the phial and pressed the last memory to her head.

She'd been quiet and accepting as Snape had explained that she was to ask no questions until after she had seen the memories. Yet another layer of repeated memories from the pensieve began to sink into place and jumble with the others. Snape's gentleness as she had come out of the first set of memories had surprised her, but not enough to stop her from pressing him to show her the chunk of memory that he, for some reason, didn't want her to see. She succeeded where she had failed before, and somehow managed to say the correct words to persuade him.

This time, at least, she had already seen herself convince him to take her virginity, as well as the actual act itself, so he didn't feel shocked, although the different perspective was strange. To have the memory of it actually happening as well as the memory of watching it like some voyeur floating through her head at the same time was strange. What was clear from the new memory, was the strange intensity with which Snape had acted, the wondering expression on his face as he had explored her body. Hermione could have cried as her heart seemed to break again when she realised how unloved and alone he had been for many years. _But I care for him… don't I? He's not alone now…_

Snape had been so defensive when she'd emerged from that memory, as if he was expecting her to last out at him for taking such liberties with her, as if she hadn't begged him to do such a thing. But by then her perception of him had already radically changed, and despite the fact that her feelings were still confused, she was sure that despite the circumstances, her first time couldn't have been easier or more enjoyable with anyone else. Would Ron or another boy my age have put in half the effort to make me feel comfortable that he did? My first time was bound to be awkward and painful, no matter who it was with.

In the memory she had needed to take a short break before going back into the pensieve, and had asked for something to eat. Tiggy had delivered some food for the both of them, finally prompting Snape to stop ignoring her. Once again she'd learnt what Dumbledore had forced Snape to do, and, as before, she'd been furious on Snape's behalf. Strangely that had somehow persuaded him to open up to her, possibly more than he had even her first night with him. The remembrance of how he had held her hand and told her that she was just as brave as him made her grow warm inside.

And then, another memory, this time belonging to Snape. He'd taken her in his bed that evening, after returning from Malfoy Manor, and he was in his office, talking to Dumbledore, his anger at himself barely restrained. She could feel her own sorrow at watching him so distressed. Her own perceptions of him had shifted yet again as she had watched him shake as he prepared the phials of her memories, before returning to the bedroom to wake her.

There was layer up on layer of watching herself watch her previous memories, and her head was beginning to spin. In between each memory there were moments spent in his company, often silent, as she tried to take in everything she was being shown. And then she was reassuring him yet again that he had kept his promises and taken care of her better than she could have expected.

She felt once more the pain she had experienced when he had pulled away from her kiss, thinking he didn't want her, and then her anger as she had shouted at him, and asked if the reason he wasn't interested was because he had someone else. He'd never answered her, she realised, sidestepping the question neatly and distracting her by telling her about the lust potion she had suggested she take, and blaming it for her attraction to him. She'd been unable to read the look on his face as she had told him she had felt the potion wear off a few hours before, before diving into the next memory.

What was becoming more and more obvious to her as the memories piled up in her head, was that he cared for her in some way, as well as she for him. It was evident in the way they both acted, if not by what they said to each other. But when she tried to speak to him, to get close, he lashed out, reminding her of all the terrible things he had done, telling her he would have killed her if needed. She'd been frightened by his words at first, but when he had told her she had no idea what he had gone through she had retaliated, and eventually he'd fled from the office, leaving her with Dumbledore, who'd made excuses for Snape's behaviour.

She'd snapped at him too, blaming him for isolating Snape, and for asking too much of him for many years. The Headmaster's response had been unexpected, but he hadn't given her the time to ask what he had meant, instead encouraging her to move onto the next memory. Thinking about what had happened in the day or two before the next one had made her realise how strongly she was attracted to him and how long her feelings had been growing.

And then McGonagall had found her.

She'd been lost in the pile of books and notes she'd amassed for her research, when McGonagall had stormed on hot on the heels of Snape, demanding answers over the rumour that he was holding a student in his chambers. Hermione found herself wanting to protect Snape from McGonagall's insinuations that he had been abusing her. The panic that consumed her when McGonagall insisted on her release surprised her, and she knew she could never leave him, not when his life would be forfeit.

Snape had given her the option to go, but instead she asked McGonagall to lower her wand and let them explain. She refused, and when she'd tried to hex Snape, Hermione didn't give a second thought to jumping in front of the spell. She would have done it a million times for the affectionate look on Snape's face as he'd held out his hand to her.

His heartfelt apology after she had come-to had warmed her heart further, and she'd held the quiet moment they'd shared close to her heart until the memory had been removed. It seemed to her that he had been more honest with his feelings in that instant than he had been since the night she had arrived. She'd forgotten McGonagall was even in the room until Dumbledore's portrait had spoken up.

Dumbledore's support of Snape, more than anything either of them had said, had probably been the deciding factor in McGonagall believing their explanation. The mixture of anger and sympathy in her eyes as the whole story unfolded comforted Hermione somehow. To have someone else who understood what Snape had been through, someone in a better position than she to protest his innocence, if that time ever came, relieved her greatly. She hadn't realised how much the situation had been weighing on her until some of the pressure had lifted. She could have danced a jig, but from the look on Snape's face he was less than happy at having his true allegiance revealed, although he had been unable to completely hide his delight when she had taken Dumbledore to task.

Hermione couldn't help but notice the way that McGonagall carefully watched the two of them, and she was pretty sure the old Professor had guessed that there was something going on between the two of them. Hermione only wished she knew herself exactly what that thing was, and every time she had realised the conversation was heading in that direction she had tried to subtly steer it away.

When McGonagall had asked to speak to her privately, Hermione had been pretty sure she knew she was going to be grilled over their relationship, and had fretted over just how much to reveal, knowing there was no way McGonagall would approve. By comparison, the first subject she had been questioned about, the horcruxes, had seemed a far easier topic to discuss.

Hermione had managed to keep Harry's inclusion on her list of possible horcruxes a secret from her professor, although she knew McGonagall could tell there was more. She'd always been a bad liar. She was, however, more than grateful for the help she was going to get, especially in terms of searching the castle for a possible horcrux. She was so sure there was one at Hogwarts.

And then what she had dreaded most since McGonagall had discovered her had happened… the older witch had asked her about her relationship with Snape. She'd tried to give her a toned down version of what had happened, but she'd felt uncomfortable under McGonagall's suspicious gaze, and had let slip more than she'd wanted, especially as she could also feel Snape watching her as if wondering if she was denouncing him to his staff.

Of course McGonagall had seen through the wool she'd been trying to pull over her eyes, and had asked for the whole truth, although Hermione had been pleasantly surprised when the professor had told her she'd never seen Snape more concerned about anyone than her when she'd been unconscious, and had been unable to stop the tears coming to her eyes.

The relief she'd felt at another person knowing about Snape's true loyalty had been nothing compared to how she felt when she finally decided to confess to McGonagall. She'd begun haltingly at first, but after a while the words had begun to pour out of her, all the hurt, the physical agony, although she'd been unable to talk about the emotion pain or her own growing feelings for the headmaster. It had become easier and easier to speak at time went on, though she could tell by the way McGonagall's fingernails had dug into the arms of the chair that it had been as hard to hear as it was to speak about. Hermione didn't think McGonagall would have been able to stop herself flying off the handle at Snape had she known the full extent of the physiological games he had played with her as well.

She'd obviously been far less successful than she'd thought at hiding her emotions, or perhaps McGonagall was a master of reading between the lines, for she had easily manipulated Hermione into confessing her feelings for Snape, although she'd struggled to define exactly what they were. Her professor had made it clear that she didn't approve of their budding relationship, and that it wouldn't last once the war was over. She as much told Hermione to give up the idea now, before she got herself hurt. Hermione didn't tell her it was far too late for that already.

Snape's reticence had frustrated and upset her when she'd tried to speak with him while McGonagall conferred quietly with Dumbledore. It was as if he was trying to make up for his earlier openness with her by being even more icy and unapproachable than usual. Was he worried about what she had said? Whatever the reason was, Hermione was not happy with the way their conversation had been left unresolved earlier and decided to take the opportunity to continue it when an opening came.

She'd been left to her own devices for a while as the two professors had retreated behind a silencing charm to talk. She'd pulled a book out of the pile to read, but most of her attention had been on Snape, who was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation he was having. After a much shorter time than she'd had expected Snape stood, making it look like the conversation had come to an end, but then McGonagall had climbed to her feet and spoken again. Whatever they'd been discussing had made his face darken, and soon it was a blank mask.

Hermione had dropped her eyes back down to the book on her lap as their conversation ended. McGonagall had given her a quick goodbye and then they had both stepped out of the office to use the time turner. When Snape returned in what was five minutes to her, but hours to him, he was elated, having used the rumour McGonagall had overheard to force the Carrows to back off. But within minutes she saw his walls going up again and she was once again shut out and in the cold.

Snape hadn't spoken to her until much later that evening when it had been time to arrange where they were sleeping. She'd tried to convince him to share a bed with her, but he'd outright refused, which had hurt her more than she'd been able to understand. The next morning she'd managed to get him to take her to the school library to see if there was anything new she could find there. The trip had gone well up until the moment they had come within sight of the phoenix statue that guarded Snape's office.

The Carrows had clearly been up to something, and had created the diversion in the kitchens as an excuse, but Snape's quickly taken command of the situation. He had mocked and taunted them, and Hermione had automatically protected him with a shield charm when the sister had let her temper get the better of her. It had felt like second nature to slip her hand into his as they made their way back to his study after that.

The realisation that the twins had been after her rather than something to do with Snape had scared her, but Snape hadn't seemed to be in the mood to comfort her, instead informing her to do any reading she wanted quickly, as they had to go to bed early that evening.

She'd managed to persuade him to share the bed with her that night. He had put on an act of reluctance but she could see the relief in his eyes. He'd been unable to keep her from noticing that he was sore and stiff after a night in a chair, and really it hadn't taken much to convince him to sleep next to her. She'd hoped to talk to him before sleeping but he'd taken ages to prepare for bed, and when he had finally got in, had shied away from her and rolled over to face away, clearly unwilling to discuss anything. She'd tried to muffle her crying, his dismissal of her having hurt badly but she was sure he could hear her and was choosing to ignore her. That thought just made her sob harder. He clearly was not interested in her, and all her earlier suppositions had been incorrect.

She had felt tired and drained of energy the next morning, her eyes bleary and sore from crying. Snape was even more cold and distant than he had been before. She was weary of wanting him, McGonagall words of warning rang in her ears, and she was sure that there was, in fact, someone else that he was hiding his attachment to. Standing close to him in order for him to wrap the chain of the time turner around them both had been pure torture, and she could barely stand to look at him. When she was in bed and he came to sit beside her she could tell he wished to be elsewhere. This time, when it came, she was more than ready to be obliviated.


	57. Chapter 57

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

OOooohhhh I'm excited about this one!

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The room slowly came back into focus around Hermione and she sank back against the stone step, resting her head in her hands. She could remember it all now. All of the horrible time she had spent on the run with the boys, the terror of being caught and held in Malfoy Manor, the relief when Snape had told her he would try to save her. So many of the memories that followed jarred with each other, confusing her. It was almost as if she had been with two different men not just the one, and her own fluctuating emotions for the two of them were such a jumble she was sure she didn't know where to start untangling them.

The sadness she had felt upon waking up the morning after he had obliviated her the final time now made far more sense, as did most of the actions he had taken over the past weeks. There were still plenty of things she didn't understand, though. _I suppose I never will now,_ she thought sadly. She wished she could know what he had thought about her, whether his affections truly lay elsewhere, or if he had ever felt anything for her. _But would if have been better to have known he had feelings for me, now he's dead? Maybe it would have been harder, to have found out he felt the same as me, only to have lost him straight away…_

_But he didn't feel the same, remember... the moment he got the promise he needed to control you he was no longer interested. All those nights… he couldn't have been able to lie further away from you if he'd tried. If he'd wanted you he could have had you…_ At least all those duelling lessons he'd given her had come in useful. For the first time ever she'd been even more capable at fighting than Harry, although she had noticed more than a few raised eyebrows, from witches and wizards on both sides, at her use of some of the darker spells she now knew.

She'd saved more than a few lives in the battle against Voldemort's forces, she was sure, and in her mind the end justified the means. _Why else would he have taught me those things? He knew this fight was coming, that I would have to face the other Death-Eaters._ It wasn't to protect him or their future children, as she'd supposed when he'd first started teaching her. It was so she could help Harry to finish Voldemort once and for all.

_Our children…_ She'd never told him how much the idea had actually appealed to her… still did, actually. They'd never spoken of that night again, except to talk about the order she had been given concerning Harry, of course. The idea of having his children, of doing what was necessary to produce said children… Perhaps she was slightly more sure of her feelings than she had thought after all. _Not that it matters now…_ She sighed and opened her eyes.

The figure standing in front of her made her squeal with fright. "Harry! Don't scare me like that! Why didn't you say something instead of sneaking up on me?"

"I did. You didn't hear me." He slumped down on the step next to her, looking utterly dejected. He glanced across at her. "What's the matter? Why are you crying?"

"I am?" She touched her fingers to her cheeks and found he was right. "Oh, it's nothing." She wiped the tears away with a quick swipe of her sleeve. "What about you Harry? You look like you've seen a ghost." She wasn't lying. Harry was pale, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

I… I guess I have." He paused for a moment, staring off into the distance. "Hermione… do you think it hurts? Dying, I mean."

"I don't know, Harry. I think…. maybe it's different for each person." She laid her hand on his arm. "Why do you ask?"

"It's just… the memories…" He shook his head. "Snape… he was on our side all this time, you know."

She ducked her head and smiled sadly. "I did… or at least I found out recently anyway." Funny, she'd thought her vow would have prevented her from replying. Maybe it didn't matter anymore, or maybe it didn't count because Harry knew already.

"He… he was looking out for me all this time. Dumbledore…"

He looked up suddenly, and she followed his gaze to the empty portrait on the opposite wall. _Coward!_

"… he ordered Snape to kill him, to make Voldemort trust him completely. I can't believe Dumbledore would be able to ask him to do such a horrible thing." He dropped his head into his hands.

"I know, Harry. It was an awful thing for him to force Professor Snape to do, but perhaps there was no other way." She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and leaned against him.

"I can't believe I feel bad for Snape," Harry whispered. "I feel terrible he's dead, and he'll never know…" he trailed off.

"Know what, Harry?"

"There was something else Dumbledore asked Snape to do…" Harry spoke more quietly now, and Hermione was sure she knew what was coming. "He told him what really happened the night my parents died… what happened to Voldemort. Or at least, a part of him."

He pulled back from Hermione a little so he could look into her eyes. His own were solemn and determined, and she knew then that she would not have to lead him to his death. He would go himself to face Voldemort, knowing what must happen.

"Hermione, I… I have to let him kill me. My scar… I'm a horcrux too. Just me and the snake, now.

She didn't know what to say, so instead of speaking only held him tighter. There was silence for a few moments, then Harry lifted his head from where he'd rested it on hers.

"You… you don't seem very surprised about all this." He sat up straight again. "You knew, didn't you?"

She grimaced as she answered. "Yes, I knew."

"But how could he… I was there…" suspicion dawned in his eyes. "You knew when you appeared in the Room of Requirement earlier, didn't you. Or have you known for longer?" He sounded hurt. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't, Harry, I had orders. Snape wanted to tell you himself. He never outright told me why Voldemort had to kill you. I guessed a few weeks ago when I was trying to figure out what the remaining horcruxes might be, but it wasn't until Snape told me either to bring you to him, or if that was impossible to make sure you faced Voldemort that I was sure."

"So you knew all this time that Snape was good? But you said that you were with McGonagall. Did she know?"

"Harry, it's all so complicated and would take far too long to explain properly now. Snape managed to get me away from Voldemort and helped me, but for most of the time I didn't realise that he was on our side. McGonagall only found out a couple of weeks ago. This evening, Snape somehow knew you were going to arrive before you did, and gave me instructions to follow, including taking you to Voldemort if he couldn't tell you what to do."

"Then what was the time-turner for?" Harry asked, frowning. "When I saw him give it to you I thought perhaps he'd told you to use it to take me back to speak to him."

"What do you mean? He never…"

"I saw him, it was right at the end of the memories he gave me, barely a few seconds… You were both standing just outside this office, when he… he kissed you… here." Harry pointed to his forehead. He slipped it into your pocket, you had your eyes closed."

Hermione scrabbled around in her pockets, and felt her fingers close over the cool metal of the time-turner.

Harry continued, "You looked like you wanted him to… well… kiss you, Hermione. What's going on? Why did Snape kiss you? I mean, I know he was good after all, but well… it doesn't seem like Snape to be affectionate with anyone."

But Hermione was barely listening, her mind whirring as she gazed down at the small device she had just pulled out of her pocket. Was it possible? Had he known? He knew Harry was coming before he did… the way he spoke… he seemed to know a lot of what was to happen…

…mione…?" A hand on her arm made her jump.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I've got to go." She lifted the chain over her head

"Go where…? What do you mean?"

"I've got to go back. He needs me…"

"I'll come with you."

"No, Harry. I need to do this by myself. Besides, it's too dangerous for you to go. What if something happened and you couldn't get to Voldemort." She looked up at the clock and calculated the amount of turns she needed to make on the time-turner. "I'll be back before you know it, Harry. I promise." She patted his arm reassuringly and then quickly turned the dial, not giving him chance to argue.

Time began to fly backwards, and, suddenly anxious about what she was doing she squeezed her eyes shit. _Oh Gods, I'm going to see him again… what do I say? I can't tell him what's going to happen to him, he might not be able to stand there and take it like he did. What do I tell him?"_

She'd never travelled backwards in time with her eyes closed before, but she could feel when she'd arrived. There was the strange sensation of being suspended in the air for a moment then time began to tick forward again. She stood for a moment longer with her eyes closed, before daring to open one.

She could have cried with delight. He was sitting behind his desk, reading the papers that were sat in front of him. It was such a familiar scene to her that it seemed as if the horrors of the past few hours had never happened. Well they haven't yet… He hadn't noticed her presence yet, so she took a step forward, dragging the chain from around her neck as she moved and tucking the device in her pocket.

Suddenly he seemed to realise he was not alone, and in one swift movement he had stood, and his wand was pointing directly at her. The look of astonishment on his face as he realised made her want to laugh.

"You… How did you get in here?"


	58. Chapter 58

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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Hermione stood speechless, unable to formulate a reply. Seeing him alive again was affecting her more than she thought possible. She fought down the impulse to throw herself into his arms and tell him everything, beg him not to go to Voldemort and instead confess all to the order. He had McGonagall and herself to back him up. She couldn't seem to get the image of his broken body on the floor of the shack out of her head. _It happened already… you can't change that!_

Snape rounded the table and walked towards her, wand still up and a suspicious look on his face. "What are you doing in here? You shouldn't have been able to get out of my chambers?" He seemed to notice her change of clothes for the first time. His wand lifted higher. "Who are you?" He obviously believed it was a trick.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out the time-turner. "I came back…" she whispered, looking up at him with big eyes.

He still looked unsure. "Prove it… Open your mind to me."

She shook he head. "I can't. There are things… in the future… things you mustn't know."

His face hardened. "Then think of something you _can_ show me." He paused for a moment, giving her a moment to gather her thoughts. "Legilimens!"

_No, not ready…_ She quickly thought about what she could use to prove who she was. But he was in her mind already and she frantically pushed the horrors of the past hours aside and flung the first memory she could think of towards him.

It was one of her restored memories, the one that for her had been the most memorable. She could feel his shock as it washed over him, her strong emotions battering against his consciousness as he experienced how his own hands had felt between her legs for the first time, urging her to completion. He felt how the moment had been so overwhelming that she had secretly cried into his shoulder afterward.

Hermione tried to push the memory away, forcing another, less personal memory into its place, but already he was gone from her mind. They stood facing each other in silence, and Hermione tried to figure out if Snape had seen anything concerning what was for him the future. He had forced his way into her head before she'd had a chance to shake off her memories of him in the Shrieking Shack.

Snape seemed stunned, and before she could give it a second thought she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. She buried her nose in his chest, finding his faint earthy smell comforting. He was still and tense beneath her arms. _What did he see?_

"I'm so sorry… I couldn't…" She bit her lip to stop herself continuing. _I'm going to save you,_ she determined. _But how?_

"Miss Granger, I don't think…" he started formally.

She pushed at his chest. "No, don't you dare," she said forcefully, surprising herself as well as him. "Not after everything. Don't you dare 'Miss Granger' me!" She wrapped her arms tighter around him again, unwilling to let him go now she had him.

"I want…" She blushed into his robes. He shifted uncomfortably. "I…" She didn't know how to tell him so she settled for one thing she could say. "Thank you…" She lifted her face and looked up at him.. "Thank you for everything. You saved me and… and cared for me."

His hands came up to grip her upper arms. "I wouldn't say that, I…"

"No, don't. If you're going to tell me that what you do to me was terrible, then please, don't. You didn't have to help me in the first place, and I caused nothing but trouble for you." She paused for a moment, but he didn't seem to want or know how to reply, instead watching her silently with dark, troubled eyes. She leant her cheek gently against his chest before continuing. "You did nothing I didn't agree to, either directly or by trusting you to make the right decision for me."

"Not all my decisions were the best ones. I could have done better for you…"

"And how could you know that at the time. You couldn't predict my behaviour, not even when you used that lust potion, and defiantly not the rest of the time. You did your best."

"I assume you have seen your memories then."

She looked up at him. His expression was hard to read. "Not just seen them. I have them all back in my head. I know… everything."

"What do you mean, everything?" He seemed worried. "I wasn't planning on giving you everything back at once, not unless the situation demanded it… just in case the Dark Lord won and I had to obliviate you quickly… I didn't want your memories to be lost to you forever."

"Yes, I know. You explained this earlier… or later, I mean. And you didn't give me them all, just enough to do what I needed to do. I came back for the rest later."

"And Potter… did I manage to speak to him, or did you have to convince him to face the Dark Lord without me?"

"I'm not sure whether I should tell you…" She bit her lip as she considered. Surely some things he could know, things that wouldn't change the timeline. He'd known Harry was coming, and the only person that could have told him that was surely her. Still telling him what how Harry had found out about his fate might lead to questions she didn't want to answer. "I can't say, not exactly, but he found out what he needed to know."

"So it's all over?" he asked hopefully. He seemed lighter, happier somehow than she had ever seen him. "The Dark Lord is dead? I expect Potter went to his death bravely. I wouldn't expect anything less from a Gryffindor," he sneered, but there was no heat in it.

She squeezed him gently in mock indignation. "Hey… I'm a Gryffindor too." She hoped he wouldn't notice she hadn't answered his question. She didn't have the heart to tell him it wasn't over yet, or what she had seen happen to him. She knew she shouldn't in any case. Those events had already happened and couldn't be changed.

"I know… you've more than proved it over the past few weeks." He spoke quietly, before grabbed her shoulder and pushed her back so he could look down at her properly.

"Did I… If the Dark Lord is defeated, and you have survived, then am I to assume the Order knows of my true loyalties… Am I… free?" He looked so hopeful her heart almost broke.

"You know I can't tell you…" _No matter how much I want to warn you. Oh Gods._ She struggled to keep her composure.

"You mean to tell me what I must do in the next few hours then?"

"Not really, although there are one or two things I know I already told you... or will tell you."

"Then what did you come back for?"

_What would you do if I said I had come back for you?_ "I…I need some potions, a lot of people are hurt," she replied, saying the first thing that came to mind. _Maybe he has something I can use to give him._

"And you needed to come back in time to get some. What about Madame Pomphrey or my own stores? Or can you not access them in the future?"

"I had to come back." He raised an eyebrow. "But I can't tell you why…" she added quickly. It was a flimsy excuse but it was one he would have to accept.

"What _can_ you tell me?"

"Harry will be here in a few hours. You will need to call the whole school to a meeting so the Order has the chance to get into the school."

"The Order…" His brow was furrowed. "Do they know, or should I be prepared…"

She interrupted him before he could continue. "Just… call the meeting. It will all work out." She reached up to touch his cheek and smiled with a warmth she did not feel. "You will see."

He nodded curtly, and she marvelled at how easily he was accepting her word. If it was her she would want to know everything.

"What else?"

There was nothing else she could think of that she should know about the coming hours. She knew what she wanted to tell him next, but could she? Her heart sped up as she tried to steel herself to say what she wished. Would he accept or reject her? He had been so distant the last few weeks, but for some reason he was being more affectionate with her now that she had hoped for. Perhaps he wouldn't turn her down.

She lifted her other hand to the other side of his face. "I… need you… I want…" She did not know how to tell him. "Please…"

He seemed to understand without her elaborating further. "It is just the conditioning" he said stiffly, taking a step back and pulling her hands down to hold them in his. "I've spent many weeks manipulating you into believing you have feelings for me, so it would be easier… for the both of us. You don't mean it, not really."

But she did need him desperately. If this was to be her last change… if she couldn't save him, she was going to take this opportunity with both hands. "You think I don't realise that? I told you the best way to exploit my feelings, what to offer me, how to, to…touch me."

He didn't seem convinced, "You cannot deny this is a… unique situation. You have been under a great deal of stress, and you may not truly know your own mind. I don't know what to believe."

She reached up to him. "Do you believe this?" she whispered, and tugged his face down to touch her lips to his.


	59. Chapter 59

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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To her dismay the kiss lasted a mere second before Snape pulled back. His eyes searched her face, concerned.

"Miss Granger… I…" He was clearly struggling with what he wanted to say. "I… I am still not sure that this is what you truly want. Perhaps once you have spent some time with your friends and with the wider world you will see that what has happened here has affected your judgement."

"No, that's not true!" she replied emphatically. "I'm not going to change my mind. I… I care for you. I hate the way you've been treated, how everyone has always just believed the worst of you. I want to…"

"I think I understand." He pulled away and she saw a flash of disappointment in his expression before it was hidden. "Over the years you have been at Hogwarts I have seen you fight for those you feel oppressed and mistreated. Is this what I am? Am I just another one of your… causes?"

"No! How can you even think that?" she protested.

"It is not hard, considering the circumstances. You are the sort of person who will always fight for what you think is right, who cares about people others don't give a second thought to. You do not approve of the way I have been treated, you have seen me injured and forced into doing things I have no desire to do. So many terrible things I had to do to you…" He turned away from her, his face full of anguish. "It is all too easy to draw parallels between myself and your other causes. Only this time you have been confused by artificial emotions created to deceive the Dark Lord."

"No… please. Don't…" She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Please believe me… I mean what I said. I was attracted to you long before now. And my feelings… I think I started to… to care for you that first night." He turned slowly to face her. "I know I begged you to…" Here she blushed and looked away from the dark eyes that were regarding her thoughtfully. "…take me to you bed, but you weren't what I expected. I thought it was going to be difficult, but you were so kind and gentle. All this time I've been with you you've done your best to take care of me…"

"I beat and raped you…" he interrupted, his voice raised. "I used your body for my own pleasure… and you hated me for it! That hasn't changed, just because there is more to the story… How can you want to be anywhere near the person who did so many horrible things to you? How _can_ you care for me?"

He had grabbed her by her upper arms and pushed her back so her thighs were against his desk as he had ranted. Despite his passion and rage he didn't frighten her, as she understood now what his anger was for himself and not her. It only made her want him more than ever.

"You did nothing I didn't agree to you. I forgave you time and time again for what you did. I wouldn't have said that if I didn't mean it.

"And before long you may change your mind, once you have had a chance to think. Only time will tell if you can truly forgive me for what I have done to you."

"No… once forgiveness has been given, it cannot be taken back." She laid her hands on his chest and looked straight into his eyes so he could see how much she mean it. "I will always forgive you… always."

"And I will wait until a later date to see if you still mean that, but for now, I cannot give you what you want."

His words were clear, but she had been around him long enough that to her, his eyes told a different story. He almost seemed to be pleading with her not to push him any further. She was sure that he was tempted, and that it wouldn't take much to change his mind.

"Please… I still have to… there's so much to do still, and I can't… I just need you. Please…" She looked up into his eyes, the terror for him, the fear that she would never be able to be with him again almost overwhelming her. She could almost see his bloodied body lying in front of her, and she grabbed him and held on tight as if to reassure herself that he was really there with her, and not lying in a pool of his own blood.

For a brief second a frown crossed his face, making Hermione wonder if he had once again dipped into her head and seen the images that her mind had been all shouting at him. Hermione tensed, waiting for the coming rejection but instead one hand slipped around her waist and held her close. He looked deep into her eyes as if searching for something. Hermione held her breath and prayed as time seemed to stretch for the longest time

Then, slowly, his other hand came up to tangle in her hair. "Merlin help me," he whispered, before he pressed his lips to hers.

What was at first a chaste kiss quickly became heated as she wrapped her arms tight around his neck, and opened her mouth to let her tongue trace his lips. With a groan he parted his lips and used the hand around her waist to pull her tight against him.

Snape leaned into her, eagerly pressing her back against the hard desk. It seemed that now he had decided to give in to her he wasn't going to waste any time. Clumsily he lifted her up and sat her on the top, shoving blindly at the parchment and books already there, before pulling back slightly to look down at her flushed face.

Hermione's hands were already on his buttons, and as she began to slip them through their holes the memory of another time when she had done the same rose unbidden to her mind. She snuck a quick glance up at him, and could deduce from his expression that he was thinking along the same lines. Her cheeks flared even brighter and she set to work even faster to get the moment over with.

She was surprised when Snape's hands closed over hers, stopping her progress. She froze with a button halfway through the loop, her eyes fixed on their joined hands, and unable to look up at him, scared he had changed his mind.

"I'm so sorry…" he whispered. "I didn't want to…"

She found the courage to look up, and seeing the tortured look on his face she quickly put her finger to his lips, silencing him. "I know…" she said gently. He opened his mouth to speak again, but she stopped him. "Shh… Please… don't. Not now." She reached up to capture his mouth momentarily with hers again.

Leaning back, she brushed his hands aside and began to undo his buttons again, keeping her eyes fixed on his as she worked. Snape watched her silently, his gaze flicking between her eyes and the bottom lip she was gently biting.

By the time she was pushing his coat off his shoulders his eyes had turned hungry, and impatiently he tore the buttons at his sleeve open and shrugged it off, letting it drop to the floor. Hermione pulled her jumper and t-shirt over her head in one quick movement before lacing her arms around Snape's neck to kiss him again. Soon they were both fumbling with their remaining clothes, but she paused when it came to his shirt. He'd never removed it in front of her, expect the time he'd thought he'd been alone, and she wasn't sure whether he would now.

Catching his eye, she slowly moved her hands to his collar and paused as if to ask permission. He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. "Leave it on. I wasn't lying before when I said it's not a pretty sight.

"I don't mind," she replied. "I'm not going to change my mind over a few scars."

He was not convinced. "It's more than a few scars. You won't…"

"Won't what? Want to continue? I'm not exactly blemish-free myself and yet that hasn't seemed to put you off." He was silent, although his eyes flickered quickly over the letters on her arm. She continued. "I want to see… I want all of you. Please…"

Finally he nodded, although she could see the vulnerability in his eyes. How could he believe she wouldn't want him, just because he was marked? His appearance wasn't why she was there, although she would easily admit that she found him attractive. Her fingers made fast work of his shirt, and soon she was sliding her hands up under the material, revelling in the warmth under her fingers as she explored the hard ridges that covered his skin. He was pale and slim, too slim really, although he had filled out somewhat since that day she had caught sight of him changing. And he was perfect.

Aware that he was breathlessly observing her lazy perusal of his body, waiting apprehensively for the verdict. Biting her lip, Hermione lowered them slowly to midway along one particularly bad scar that began partway down his left side and crossed several ribs to end below the collarbone. Gently she alternated between open-mouthed kisses and running her tongue up the white line until she reached the top. Peeking up at his expression she was staggered by the rawness of the desire that covered his face.

Before she could make another move he had pulled her back up to him and crushed his mouth against hers. In the haze of passion that descended upon her in the minutes that followed, she barely registered when the rest of their clothes came off, or that he had gently pushed her down onto a soft surface. All she knew was the hot tangle of limbs, the taste of his mouth and skin, and the weight of him above her as his fingers rediscovered the parts of her body with which he had made himself so familiar.

She was all too aware as well, of the hardness pressing against her thigh as she clung to him, and as she came down from the first of her orgasms, brought on by his clever fingers between her legs and his mouth on her breasts, she reached down to grasp him. Soon he was gasping into her mouth with the movement of her hand, and it didn't take much encouragement for him to settle between her thighs.

Sighing with pleasure at finally having him where she had so desperately wanted him the past few weeks, she wrapped her legs around his, and savouring the feel of him at her entrance. Her last coherent though for some time was that she would do anything to make sure this was not the last time they were together.

In one swift movement he pushed into her, burying his face in her neck. Hermione arched her back and moaned in pleasure as he filled her, but the muffled cry he had uttered with his first thrust tore at her heart even as she urged him on.

"Hermione…"

* * *

 

The feel of her beneath him, urging him on with hands and legs and lips was like nothing he had ever experienced, not even with her. There had always been something holding him back from losing himself fully in her, and of course she had never before been in his arms so willingly, so freely as she was now. He could feel the fingers of one hand twist in his hair, the nails of the other scoring his back as he gently thrust into her.

Snape could hardly believe she would want to be with him, like this, even knowing how he himself had primed her to feel such things for him. He'd been so sure she would recoil at seeing him fully for the first time, and had been completely unprepared for the rush of emotion that had swept over him when she had pressed her mouth to his scarred chest. He vaguely remembered scrabbling for the wand that he'd dropped onto the desk at some point and transfiguring something into a bed, but couldn't recall actually getting onto it.

If it hadn't been for the images she had flung at him he would never had agreed to this, but as it was now, he would be unable to refuse anything she asked of him. He'd meant to stop her after that first kiss she'd given him, he really had, but along with the sight of his dead body he'd also been bombarded with the distress over what she'd been through in the future, as well as her terror that he would deny her this one last chance to be together. He'd realised she needed this, and hoped that it would help her get closure after he was gone.

Snape was doing his best to pretend he couldn't see the drops of water on her lashes, but every time he pulled back, the sight of them tugged at the heart he had long though shrivelled and dead. Instead he tried to distract himself with the taste of her soft lips, or the way she moaned breathily when he ran his tongue along her collarbone. He held the weight of his upper body off the lithe form under him by his forearms that rested near her shoulders, his fingers tangled in the hair that was spread across the sheets, but one thumb rested on her cheek, unconsciously stroking from her jaw across to the corner of her mouth and back.

Her legs moved up higher around his waist, letting him push deeper into her. After a few moments Snape stilled, knowing that he was too close to the edge but determined to take her with him. She moaned in disappointment as he pushed himself up onto his knees, lifting one of her slender legs onto his shoulder and pressing a kiss to the inside of her ankle. With a tug on her hips he pulled her down the bed, burying himself inside her once again. He began to move, more slowly this time, reaching down with one hand to where they were joined. Her sudden gasp told him he had found the right spot, and soon she was writhing before him, undulating her pelvis in time with the light strokes across her clitoris.

He knew from previous experience that she was nearly there, and strained with the effort of keeping the rhythm steady, wanting to push her over before he could no longer hold himself back. Soon her back was arching, and her hands were scrabbling at his chest, trying to find some part of him to grab onto. The eyes that had been watching him half-lidded as he worked to please her now closed and her head went back. Fingers that had been seeking his skin wrapped around his wrists and squeezed hard as she moaned out her pleasure, his name on her lips.

She was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and suddenly he wanted to hold her, to press his body as close as he could get to hers as he came. Falling forwards he dug his hands under her shoulders to pull her tight against him, encouraging her to wrap her arms and legs around him once again. The speed and strength of his thrusts increased until he was pounding into her furiously, her cries only urging him on. When he finally came he buried his face in her shoulder, biting her roughly, trying to stifle the pathetic sob that threatened to tear from his throat.

For a long moment after the tremors that had wracked both their bodies had subsided they continued to lie there, every part of their bodies touching, and as close as two people could physically be to each other. Snape could feel her fingers lazily caressing his back as they both struggled to catch their breath. He knew his weight must be too heavy for her, although she lay uncomplaining underneath him. Perhaps she, like him, didn't want this moment to end, knowing what was to come after. _But it must_ , he thought as he lifted his head to look at her. They both had things to do. She had the rest of her life to live, and soon enough he would meet the end of his.

_It's better this way_ , he thought as he tenderly stroked her hair. _I only hope you can come to see that sooner rather than later._ Unaware of the maudlin turn of his thoughts she smiled sleepily up at him, turning her head to press a kiss into his palm. She looked as sated as he felt, and his chest ached at the thought that soon he would be beyond such experiences as this, beyond the ability to love her.

_I love her…_ he suddenly realised. The feelings had been there for some time, but he had been unwilling to face them until now… when it was too late. He rolled to the side, taking her with him so that her head came to rest on his chest as her legs twined so naturally with his. _Even more reason why my death is necessary. She'll be sure to realise that this, that I, am not what she wants soon enough. I can't go through this all again, not after Lily._ He was sure he'd not be strong enough to let her go, not after knowing what it was like to lie next to her, naked and slick with their combined sweat.

_This is the only way…_ he told himself again, more forceful this time, as he tried to brush aside the thought of taking her and running. Better to die now that to live to see her infatuation with him turn to hate and disgust.

Hermione's arm lay across his chest, her fingers idly playing with the ends of his hair, and as he turned his head to look down at her he couldn't help but smile at the sight of her, relaxed and half-asleep curled up next to him. _If only…_ For a few minutes he indulged in his dream of a future with her, imagining a world where they were both whole and undamaged, where they could forget the horrors of the one they had left behind. The moment was broken when she shifted in his arms to look up at the clock, her eyes suddenly aware and uneasy. _Stupid fantasies…_

"Se… Severus…" she whispered worriedly. His arms tightened involuntarily around her as she spoke his name. "We're almost out of time. I'm not sure exactly when you came to get me, but it has to be soon, considering how much we had… have got to get through before you call the meeting." Her arm dropped to his waist and she burrowed her face into his chest. "Not that I want to move from here, but…"

"Neither do I, but we must," he said, pulling her up to kiss her tenderly once more. The eager gleam in her eyes told him that if it wasn't for the lack of time he'd be in danger of a repeat performance. "What do you need?"

She rolled over onto her stomach, completely unabashed by her nakedness, and propped her chin in one palm. Her eyes were serious, although there was something in their expression that told him he wasn't about to hear the whole truth.

"I need access to your stores, anything that will heal. There are so many injured…" She trailed off, a far-away look in her eye, and he did not need to look into her mind to realise she was thinking of him. The arm that was still slung over his waist squeezed gently. Snape trailed a finger gently down the side of her face and she came back to him with a start.

"Sorry… I, uh… I think, considering the time, it's best if you let me into your stores and let me figure out what is best to take. You need to get ready and show me what I need to know."

"And what is that, exactly."

She smiled, "I'm sure you'll figure it out for yourself. Just don't forget to call a meeting to see if anyone knows where Harry is. You need to give me time to meet the boys, as well as wait for the Order to arrive."

"And then?"

For a moment she looked unsure of what to say. "Just do what you think best. It'll all work out the way it should."

If he was surprised that she did not seem to be doing something that would change his future, he did not show it. She used the device for a whole year, she is more than aware of the consequences of meddling with time. He could not help the flash of disappointment that coursed through him at the thought that she hadn't cared enough to try anyway.

He sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and trying to ignore the feeling of loss as her arm fell from his waist, as well as the hurt that had crossed her face as he'd pulled away so abruptly from her. "Get dressed then, we should not waste any more time."


	60. Chapter 60

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Sorry again I have no time to reply, but thank you all so much for the lovely words.

* * *

Hermione slumped onto a stool as the door closed behind Snape. It had been exhausting trying to keep up the pretence that all was well, when she wanted nothing more than to persuade him to apparate the both of them out of the castle and far away from what was to come.

Raising her fingers to her lips, she ran her finger across them, tracing the spot where he had kissed her a few moments previous, his mouth lingering on hers, as if reluctant to depart. She had half expected for him to leave her with promises concerning the future, but there had been none and he hadn't seemed to have expected any from her either. Did he have some inkling of what was to come, she wondered. In amongst their final conversation as she had given him some last instructions, had she said something that had made him suspect?

She had reminded him to slip her the time-turner before they parted, also explaining that he needed to make sure she knew to go to the Room of Requirement to meet Harry who would be arriving around 10pm. When he had grumbled that gave him practically no time to return her memories and instruct her, she had arched an eyebrow in imitation of him and given him a moment to figure it out for himself.

She'd also asked him the one question that was still bugging her about her memories: What was in the missing segments? What had he shown her to convince her of his trustworthiness? Apologetically he had refused to answer, telling her those particular memories were extremely personal, and ones he'd only been prepared to share in the first place because there was no other choice. When she hadn't let it go, Snape had reminded her how horrible it had been for her, having himself and the Dark Lord trawling though her own memories, and asked if she would feel comfortable showing him her own most private or embarrassing moments. Reluctantly she had relented, and he had smiled gently at her, brushing a thumb along her jaw as he bent down to wipe the pout off her lips with his own.

Hermione would have been more than happy to continue kissing him. However, Snape had pulled away, although she had been able to see the reluctance in his expression. Hurriedly he had changed the subject, presumably trying to take his mind off kissing her again.

* * *

(memory)

Unwarding the cupboards at the far end of the room, Snape had pulled the doors open before turning to her. "Take whatever you think you need," he'd told her, waving at the many potions standing in neat rows within. He'd turned to look at her, and found her gazing absently at the potion still sitting on the bench. Her curiosity had been piqued once more by the mystery of what he'd been trying to create, and she'd been trying to recall what she had seen in his notes.

He'd appeared beside her suddenly, making her jump. "It's unfinished, and untested. Unless now, since the Dark Lord is dead." She'd tried not to grimace at his continued misunderstanding.

"Why should that mean it's useless?"

"Because if he is, then that damned snake must be also. I have been trying to create an undated version of the anti-venin that was used to save Arthur Weasley for some time now. The original brew is no longer effective since the Dark Lord arranged for her to be both magically and biologically transformed afterwards. He was not happy that there was a cure for her venom. Luckily, I was able to convince him that it was not I who had made the original potion."

Hermione had barely been able to contain her excitement at this bombshell, although it had been tempered somewhat by the news the potion was untested and possibly wouldn't work.

"But how have you been testing your previous attempts?" she wondered out loud, wanting to get some more information on what could possibly be her way to save his life.

"I had a sample of Nagini's venom."

"How did you manage to get that? Surely _he_ would know that you've taken it."

Snape looked at her with serious eyes. "I made the potion that transformed the snake, under orders from the Dark Lord." He turned from her to look at the cauldron in front of them. "I insisted that I needed a good amount of her venom to be able to create the potion in the first place. The Dark Lord believes I used it all in the creation of the brew that transformed her."

"Then why have you not tested this variant?"

"I have no venom left. I used the last of it a few days ago."

Hermione was quiet for a few moments as his words sank in. _Will it work? It's all I've got…_ "No wonder you didn't want me to look too closely at what you were trying to make. If _he_ had seen…" She paused as wrapped her arms around herself as she thought of what could have been.

Snape laid a comforting hand on her shoulder as she shivered with dread. She wished he had held her, but knew all too well he was not the most demonstrative person, or wholly comfortable with shows of affection. She'd just have to be content with what he was willing to give. She bent her neck and rested her cheek on the back of his hand. He twitched, but did not pull away.

"What will you do next?" he asked quietly.

"I think the best thing is for me to stay here until after you leave. I will not be needed anywhere until later and I can't be seen until later anyway," Hermione replied, having already made up her mind to stay in his lab some time previous. She had planned to spend some time going through Snape's cupboards to see what was the most likely to work. Now she wanted the time alone to bottle some of the anti-venin, and she still needed to find some healing potions. Her mind started to work furiously.

There was the blood-loss and the wound on his neck to think about, not just the venom. She needed to find a way to deal with those too, or it wouldn't matter if the anti-venin worked or not. There was also one more problem, the most serious complication in her estimation. Hermione knew from experience that she must find a way to save him while making everything appear the same as when she had experienced it before. When they had left Snape's body in the Shrieking Shack she had believed him dead, or she would have done something to help him. Now she needed to find some way to make him appear as dead as he had already seemed to her, so her past self and the boys would leave quickly.

_Draught of the Living Death…_ It was the only potion she could think of off-hand that would produce such an effect. But how to get him to take it without being seen? She and the boys had jumped out pretty quick after Voldemort had disappeared. She would only have the barest moment to do it, only she was pretty sure that if she had managed such a feat in what was now her future, that even Snape hadn't realised. He had seemed sure that he was dying, and Hermione was convinced that even his acting skills wouldn't be up to the task in such a situation. So she had to not only administer a potion in the space of about five second without the three of them noticing her, but she also had to do it without a conscious patient noticing too. _These things are never simple are they…_

Dimly she realised Snape was speaking to her.

(end memory)

* * *

Snape had been talking about keying her into his wards and dropping the enchantment that prevented her from reading, so she could access what she needed, as well as enter and exit his chambers without him. She had nodded in agreement, and tried to cast her mind back over what he had said before while he quickly performed the spells. She'd been sure he hadn't said anything she didn't already know from her own past with him.

They had spoken of some more details that were useful for Snape to know, and she'd asked to be able to read the notebook that contained the details of the anti-venin while she waited, which he had agreed to. Before long she'd told him he needed to go, as Harry would be arriving soon. It had made no sense, even as she'd said it. They had all the time they needed with the use of the time-turner, but with every moment that had passed she had found it more and more difficult not to divulge everything and convince him to leave with her.

She had walked with Snape to the door of the lab, where he had pulled her into his arms. Their final kiss had been slow and lingering, both of them pouring all their emotions into it. Then suddenly, he had turned and gone, without another word, and she had let him, never saying goodbye.

It was only now, as Hermione sat alone in the silent lab, that she wondered if she wasn't expecting too much from herself. She had little more than an untested potion, a half-baked plan, and no idea yet of how to heal Snape without being seen. She had a decent amount of time before Snape and her past self even left his chambers though.

Hermione turned her attention to the notebook sitting innocuously in front of her. Maybe if she took some time to read through his notes something might occur to her in the meantime. She pulled the book towards her and opened it.

 

* * *

 

A loud bang made her jump, shaking her awake from where she had fallen asleep with her head on her hands. Blearily she sat upright, the pages of the notebook she had been reading sticking to her face for a moment, until gravity pulled it back down to the bench. _Shit, what's the time? How could I fall asleep when there's so much to do?_

Checking the wall clock she realised it was a minute past midnight. _The battle's just begun then._ There were no windows in the room or she would have run to one to see that was happening outside. _Gods I must have slept for almost ninety minutes_. She hadn't realised how tired she was, but now she thought about it she had probably been awake for over 24 hours, what with the early morning she'd had, plus two jumps back in time.

She felt a lot better for having had even that small amount of rest. Her brain seemed a little less fuzzy too. Only two hours before I need to go, and I still need a solution. She looked down at the notebook on the desk in front of her. Snape had written a lot but she'd speed-read a good deal of them, only slowing for the comments she thought were important. She'd almost reached the end when she'd fallen asleep and from what she'd read so far, Snape was not too far from a viable potion.

Doing her best to ignore the loud bangs and shaking of the castle underneath her, she set to finishing the notebook.

Ten minutes later she had reached the end, having read the notes for the last few trials more thoroughly than the rest. Excitement was bubbling up in her. Snape had been so close to succeeding with the last tested potion, there only being one small problem, and he had changed the method accordingly. _It could work…_

So she had a way to cure him… well, the potion had a good chance of succeeding, but she still needed to raid Snape's cupboards for some other potions; Draught of the Living Death, Dittany for his neck, as well as some other generalised healing potions. She could do with a bit of pepper-up potion for herself. Her nap might have helped a bit, but she didn't want to risk falling asleep again. She pushed herself to her feet and padded across to the cupboard. She quickly found the potions she needed, as well as an extra phial for the anti-venom. Placing them all down on the desk she took the pepper-up potion, feeling instantly invigorated, and picked up the empty phial.

She carefully poured the correct dosage that the notebook had instructed and corked the phial, before casting an unbreakable charm on the glass. Placing it with the others she eyed the collection of potions. She could really do with her bag about now, but she'd left it with Luna. How was she going to carry them all? She'd have to transfigure something into a bag, and try to remember the charms she had used before.

She ran into the bedroom and returned with one of Snape's socks. A few minutes later she had a small black shoulder bag that was far bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, and she'd cast a silencing charm over it too so the sound of clicking glass wouldn't give her away. Placing all the phials in the bag, she cast a quick weightless charm over the bag as well.

_One problem down, two to go… If only I had Harry's invisibility cloak. Actually, that's not a bad idea…_ She'd last seen Luna stuffing it back in to her bag after Harry's confrontation with Snape. _But where is she now?_ Hermione knew that while she might get away with Luna seeing her it would be a mistake for her to let anyone else spot her. Harry would realise something was up pretty quickly, and her past-self was still with Ron, but Luna had a knack of understanding things without being told. Even if she said something to anyone else it would be easily brushed aside as Luna's usual dottiness.

Hermione looked up at the clock. It read 12:20. _Where were we at that time? I think I was still down in the Chamber of Secrets with Ron, so Luna must be with Harry at Ravenclaw Tower still. But how do I get to her without Harry or anyone else seeing me_?

Suddenly the perfect answer bloomed in her head. "Tiggy," she called. The diminutive elf pooped into existence beside her.

"Miss needs Tiggy?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, then snapped it shut as she took in Tiggy's appearance. She had what looked like shredded tea towel wrapped around her head like a bandana, and held a large kitchen knife in each hand. She also seemed agitated. Quickly the elf tucked the knives in the back of her tea towel and grinned up at Hermione sheepishly. "Why are you dressed like that?" Hermione asked. "What's going on?"

"Harry Potter's Kreacher has come to Hogwarts," she replied excitedly, bouncing up and down. "We'ses going to fight and help get Sir back."

"Sir? You mean Professor Snape?"

"Hogwarts needs its Sir now. Hogwarts is breaking. Missy must help get Sir back." She wrung her hands anxiously as the castle shuddered again around them.

"But that's just what I'm trying to do, Tiggy. I need your help."

The elf beamed. "Tiggy will do anything to help Miss and Sir." She bounced on her toes in anticipation.

"I need you to find out if Luna Lovegood is alone. If she is apparate her to an empty classroom. Make sure it's safe. Then come back here."

Tiggy disappeared without another word. With nothing to do but wait Hermione checked the potions in her bag one last time. Before a few more seconds had passed Tiggy had appeared again.

"Tiggy find Miss Luna and take her to empty room."

_Yes….!_ "Tiggy, can you take me to her please."

Before she knew it Tiggy had reached up on gnarled hand and with a pop they apparated.

"Oh hello, Hermione," came a voice from behind her.

Hermione turned to find Luna seated on a dusty desk, her legs dangling above the floor as she looked round curiously.

"What a strange place to meet. Did you need something?" Her tone was as dreamy as usual, but her words were straight to the point and again she seemed to know exactly what was going on.

"Uh, hey Luna. I need to borrow Harry's cloak, but I need you not to mention this please. I'll give it back to him in a few hours."

Luna shrugged and opened the beaded bag that hung from her shoulder. "I'm sure he won't mind. I won't say anything." She pulled the shimmery material from the bag and jumped down from the desk to pass it to Hermione, who slung it over one arm.

"Thanks Luna... When I say don't mention it, I mean can you just not mention seeing me at all please."

"If you like…" She paused for a moment then reached out towards Hermione, who looked down confused and found Luna touching the time-turner that still hung around her neck. "I've read about them of course, but I've never had a change to look at a real one properly. I thought they were all destroyed at the Ministry."

"Oh, I… uh…"

Before Hermione could formulate a reply Luna had turned to Tiggy. "Would you be so kind as to take me back to where I was, please." She looked up at Hermione. "Good luck with whatever you came back for."

"Uh, thank you Luna," Hermione managed to stammer. "Tiggy, can you come straight back after taking Luna, please." They disappeared so quickly she was unsure if Tiggy had heard, but the elf was back again before Hermione could even breathe. "

"What can Tiggy do for Miss?"

Hermione paused for a moment as she thought. _Back to Severus's rooms, they're the safest place and I know no one got in there during the battle._ She looked down at the cloak in her hands. _So I've got a way to hide, but how do I give him the potion? There's no time. I don't want to just sit there and watch him die all over again._

"Can you take me to the library in Professor Snape's chambers, please Tiggy." _Maybe something in one of his books might give me an idea._

Tiggy reached up to grab her hand, and with a soft pop, she found herself where she'd asked to be. She had one last request for the elf.

"Tiggy, if you wish you can go and join your friends, but in about two hours I will need you to apparate both myself and Professor Snape from the Shrieking Shack into his bedroom. He will be injured, so I may need you to help me further. Can you do that?"

"Tiggy will help. Tiggy is honoured to help Miss look after Sir."

"Thank you, Tiggy. I will call when I need you."

The elf bowed and winked out of existence, leaving Hermione alone once more. _Time for some research…_

She deposited the cloak in Snape's chair and walked across to the nearest bookshelf. For once she didn't really know where to start. She trailed her fingers along the spines, as she walked slowly along the perimeter of the room reading the titles as she went. So many of the books were on dark magic, or on topics she was sure would be of no use.

Eventually, after having climbed up to look at some of the higher rows of books, and still at a complete loss after having flicked through and disregarded several tomes of potions and medicinal uses, a rather odd book on time that she would love to go through in detail at a later time, as well as one called _101 Uses of Transfiguration that You Never Knew Existed_ , she found herself pulling out a book on medical procedures.

Later she would wonder why she'd chosen to look at that particular volume, as it was not dissimilar to several she had already flicked through and found to be useless, but as she turned a page halfway through the book, and her eyes fell on the procedure described on the following one she could feel her heart begin to pound in her chest. _Yes, yes! That's it!_ She hugged the book to her chest in excitement. _It's going to work. I'm going to save him!_


	61. Chapter 61

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Thanks for all the reviews and kudos!

* * *

Hermione was almost too scared to breathe in case it was heard, and was sure the pounding of her heart was going to give her location away, despite the fact she'd cast a silencing charm around herself. She'd also made use of the cover of an old broken table that stood in one corner, leaning haphazardly against the wall that was likely the only thing holding it upright.

She'd chosen this particular spot because it was close to where Snape would fall, and the table provided enough protection that she could be sure neither of the two men currently occupying the room with her would knock into her. It wasn't the most comfortable place to have been curled up in for so long, but she hadn't been able to think of anywhere else to hide. She was scared blind she would be discovered, even though she knew that she'd not been, since her past self was now hiding on the other side of the wall. Still, she couldn't help but squeeze her eyes close in fear every time Voldemort's gaze swept over her corner.

Hermione could see the expression on Snape's face as he spoke this time. He seemed not to be able to take his eyes off the snake that spun lazily in its cage above his head, and she could read the tension in his body in the way that he held himself. His unease was making her nervous and she had to fight to still the fingers that were picking at the cork of one of the potions she had placed in her lap ready to be used.

Snape turned slightly as Voldemort passed behind him, and for a moment Hermione could see his face fully. Perhaps another person would have though his face to be expressionless, but she knew from the subtle differences she had come to learn over the past weeks with him that he was scared, and yet there seemed to be a trace of resignation in his eyes and in his demeanour.

_Does he know something?_ she thought again. _Surely if he had known he would have avoided coming here._ She watched as his eyes flicked back up to the snake for a moment, and the tiny flash of emotion that crossed his face, as well as the momentary tightening of his fists gave her an answer. _He knows… he knows the snake is going to attack him. Oh Gods…,_ she realised suddenly, her stomach tightening so hard she thought she might be sick. _He thinks he's going to die._

So many of his earlier words and actions suddenly made sense. The way he had kissed her in the lab before leaving, it had been his way of saying goodbye. And earlier… or later in his case, when he had apologised for his actions and told her to keep herself safe, before sweetly kissing her on the forehead. She remembered with a pang how he'd also mentioned his own death. _He knew, and still he came. But why? He could have saved himself._

A heart-breaking thought occurred to her. _Perhaps he thinks he has nothing to live for. He feels so guilty about what he has done in the past, to me and to so many others. Maybe he believes dying is his only option. Does he think he doesn't deserve to live?_ Suddenly the potions in her lap seemed a hundred time as heavy, weighing her down _. Does he even want to live?_ Then, another, even more morose thought _… Am I not enough for him? Perhaps I was wrong about how he felt about me. Maybe what we did earlier meant nothing more to him than just one last fling before he dies._

She picked one potion up and considered it, doubt over her chosen course of action assailing her. Her thoughts flashed back to all those moments when he had pushed her away and rejected her. _Perhaps I shouldn't save him… No! Whatever he's done, he deserves a chance, even if he doesn't believe so himself. I can't let him die, I don't want him to die… even if he doesn't want me…_

The desperation in Snape's voice drew her attention back to the conversation.

"Let me go and find the boy, my Lord. Let me bring him to you. I know I can…"

For a moment Hermione wondered why he was so desperate to leave if he already knew he was to die here. Then she remembered she'd not told him how Harry had found out what he needed to know. _He think he still needs to get to Harry first… I don't think he realises it's going to happen now._ But she knew from her memory of the conversation between the two men that the moment she was dreading was approaching quickly now. She was also aware of the fact that her past self as well as her friends had arrived in the shack a minute or so ago, and were now listening to the conversation on the other side of the wall.

"My wand of yew did everything of which I asked it, Severus, except to kill Harry Potter. Twice it failed. Ollivander told me under torture of the twin cores, told me to take another's wand. I did so, but Lucius's wand shattered upon meeting Potter's."

Hermione silently placed the phial she was holding back in her lap and picked up the Draught of the Living Death. She uncorked it at set it down carefully beside her before opening the anti-venom. She kept hold of the second potion in one hand and pulled her wand out from her sleeve, before falling motionless again as she waited breathlessly for the dreaded moment to arrive.

"Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen."

"My Lord…"

Hermione's stomach was roiling with the anticipation, and she could see her hands trembling as she held tightly to the objects in them. _Oh gods, oh gods, don't let me fuck this up!_ She knew she had to time it perfectly for it to work.

"The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine."

"My Lord!"

She squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see what happened next. She'd seen it once before and she couldn't stand to watch it again, not after what she had learned in the meantime, not after what they had shared. _I think I'm going to be sick… Get a grip for god's sake!_

"It cannot be any other way. I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last."

She heard Snape's quiet gasp as Voldemort's wand swiped the air, splitting his skin.

_"Kill!"_ she heard Voldemort hiss.

Hermione shoved the hand that held her wand into her mouth as she heard the snake strike Snape again and again. She was barely aware of the pain as she bit into a finger, or of the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. Even though she'd known what was coming it hadn't prepared her to relive this moment yet again. She was sure she would never forget the horrible sound that had come from Snape's shredded throat.

"I regret it," she heard a cold voice say.

She forced her eyes open, knowing that her moment had come. Snape lay less than a metre from her, slumped against the wall, the blood pooling around him, and she swallowed the cry that threatened to burst from her mouth. She needed to concentrate and focus on the spell or it would not work. As Voldemort gathered the snake and disappeared with a pop she pointed her wand at the open neck of the phial in her hand and whispered the incantation with an accompanying swirl and flick towards Snape's prone body.

"Ad ventriculum libera."

The anti-venom disappeared, and she could only hope that it had reappeared where she had intended, in Snape's stomach. She sent up a quick prayer of thanks to whoever had taken the time to create a spell to make it easier to give unconscious patients their potions as she placed the empty phial down beside her and picked up the Draught of Living Death. If she had performed the charm correctly the anti-venom should now be working, but Snape was still slowly bleeding out. The healing potions and dittany she had in her lap would deal with that once she was along with him. She was so intent on her task that she almost jumped when Harry raced into the room, Ron and Luna hot on his heels.

Harry immediately knelt down to press his hand to the gushing wound at Snape's neck, and Hermione felt a wave of affection for her friend as he tried to help the man who had seemingly done so much evil. Then her past self entered the room, gasping in horror at the scene before her. Hermione watched as she froze, and remembered how she'd been unable to move to help, despite wanting to at the time. _But I'm making up for it now… I hope._ Hermione prepared to repeat the medical charm. This part was tricky, the timing had to be perfect. Putting the potion directly into the stomach meant it was absorbed very quickly and she had to choose the moment just right.

"Take… it… take… it," Snape was saying, waving weakly at the silver tears glistening on his cheek.

Hermione watched again as Harry collected the memories using the phial that Luna had produced, her wand hovering over the open phial in her hand. He looked down at the liquid pooling in the bottom as if uncertain what to make of it.

"Look at me," Snape whispered, his face turned away from the girl hiding under the table, who quickly whispered the incantation as her wand moved. Harry did as asked. "You have your mother's eyes…"

Hermione frowned. She hadn't remembered his last words until now. _What do they mean_? She'd never really considered that he might have known Harry's mother, although it seemed obvious to her now. _But why is he bothered about the shape of her eyes...?_

All thoughts off Harry's mother fled her mind as Snape's body sank back against the wall, his head falling to one side, seemingly dead. Hermione put the empty phial down and grabbed the ones in her lap, preparing to rush to his side.

"We need to go," her past self cried, and fled, the anguish in her eyes clear. Her friends glanced at each other worriedly before following her out of the room, Harry giving Snape one final glance before he disappeared.

Hermione waited the barest moment before throwing off the cloak. Scrambling next to him, she wrenched the stopper out of the healing draught. "Ad ventriculum libera," she whispered again, flicking her wand toward him. _Gods, I hope I've done it right._ The wounds were still seeping, more slowly than before, but at least it gave her some hope that his heart was still pumping. _He needs more healing potions… why didn't I grab more than one?_

Dropping the phial, she pulled his head into her lap, pulling at the collar of his clothes to try and get to his neck. They looked awful. He'd lost so much blood and she only had the dittany left. "Please, Severus," she was sobbing. "Don't leave me, I need you, please…" She opened the dittany and began to pour it over the open wounds, reaching out to rub it in as best as she could. Slowly, under her fingers, the wounds finally began to knit together _. I need more potions, what the hell was I thinking?_ She cradled his head in her arms as she whispered, "Don't worry, I'm not finished yet. I'll look after you, I promise. I just need to get you back to your rooms. "

Remembering her plan suddenly, she called out. "Tiggy!"

With a small pop, the elf appeared, wringing her hands in worry as she took in the state of the dark wizard sprawled out on the floor, and the witch holding on to him as if her life depended on it.

"Take us back to the castle, please. To his bedroom," Hermione cried before the elf could speak.

Without a word the elf reached out, laying one hand on Hermione's arm and the other on Snape's shoulder, and with a shark crack, they disappeared.

They reappeared in the middle of Snape's bed, and immediately Tiggy began to wail in grief, sinking to her knees beside Snape's prone body. He looked ashen and grey. _Like death_ , she thought worriedly.

"Tiggy, stop crying," Hermione snapped, the stress of the situation fraying at her temper. The elf quietened immediately. "He's not dead! At least, I don't think…" She gently lifted his head off her lap and scooted out from under him. He was lying across the large bed at an angle so she pulled a pillow down under his head before laying it down, taking care not to move his neck too much.

She moved around to his side and leaned over him, pressing her ear to his chest. For a moment she could hear nothing, but just as she was starting to panic over the lack of a heartbeat she heard a quiet thud-thud. She let out a sigh of relief, but stayed where she was for a few more moment until she had heard his heart beating a few more times. It was very slow, but she hoped that was just the Draught of Living Death that was causing it to be so, as it was basically just a very strong sleeping potion.

She was just about to jump off the bed to grab some more potions when a voice she remembered from before rang through the castle, shocking her into stillness once more. She covered her ears, but it didn't seem to help to cut out the noise.

"You have fought valiantly, Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery. Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a loss and a waste. Lord Voldemort is merciful I command my forces to retreat, immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."

It felt like there were shards of glass stabbing into her with every word. She could see Tiggy shaking as she crouched next to Snape, but she seemed to look angry, rather than terrified. Hermione tried to move, but her body didn't seem to want to. She desperately wanted to continue treating Snape, terrified that he would die while she was petrified.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every man, woman and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

The moment the voice faded out her frozen muscles came back to life and she darted off the bed towards the door to the lab.

"Tiggy, can you get him out of those clothes and into bed, please," she called over her shoulder to the elf. The sight and smell of the blood was starting to turn her stomach, and she was sure she wouldn't want to wake up in the ripped and filthy clothing he was now lying in.

The lab was just as she'd left it an hour or so ago. Flinging the cupboards open she started rooting through for anything that could help. They were well organised, so she quickly found 2 phials of blood replenisher, as well as another couple of healing potions. What she wouldn't find, however, was a phial of the Wiggenweld potion, the antidote to the Draught of the Living Death that was keeping Snape asleep. It was a problem that would have to wait for later.

Back in the bedroom, she quickly used the charm to once again transfer one phial of the blood replenisher into his stomach, followed by a healing potion. Tiggy had managed to remove all of Snape's clothes and now had him straightened up under the blanket with his head on the pillows. Hermione sat down beside him and placed her ear to his chest. She couldn't be certain, but it seemed to her that his heart was beating a little stronger, although still at the same steady pace.

Looking up at his face she saw some of the colour had returned to his skin, and he no longer looked like death. _Maybe death warmed up…_ she thought morosely. It was clear that her efforts had paid of somewhat at least, although it would be hard to tell exactly how well until she gave him the antidote for the draught.

With his heartbeat so slow, it was almost like he was in some kind of suspended animation. His blood was circulating so slowly round his body that the spread of the venom as well as the healing potions would have been reduced. Hermione wasn't sure how the healing potions reacted with the body, and perhaps it didn't need pumping round his body to take effect, but snake's venom would have directly affected the blood, turning it to sludge in his veins. She wouldn't know for sure if the anti-venom had worked until he woke up. _…and what if he doesn't wake up…_

Hermione reached out to grab the cold hand that was lying stiffly by his side. "Severus," she whispered, using her other hand to brush back a lock of hair from his forehead. "…don't leave me, please be ok." His name still sound odd in her mouth, though she could vaguely remember calling it out in supplication back in the Shrieking Shack. Her fingers continued to move across his face. Snape's expression now was one of peace, many of the harsh lines that had seemed to be ever present smoothed out somewhat.

Her fingers trailed down his cheek to his jaw, and she gingerly touched his throat. Tiggy had cleaned him of blood, and she could clearly see the partly healed red slashes the snake's fangs had ripped in his neck. _It must have been such agony for him… and yet he was still able to think clearly enough to give Harry his memories._ Hermione buried her face in his chest as the tears began to silently run down her cheeks. _Oh Gods, Severus, it was so horrible…_

A few moments later a gentle touch on her shoulder made her jump and she looked up blearily to find Tiggy standing over her on the bed, her eyes big and mournful.

"What can Tiggy do to help Sir?" She twisted her tea towel dress in her fists anxiously.

"Oh… uh…" Hermione sat up and wiped her face. It took a few moments before she could reply, composing herself quickly as she debated her next step. _Come on Hermione, you've not got the time to go to pieces…_ "Well, I need to leave for a moment, so can you just watch and make sure he is as comfortable as he can be." She couldn't actually think of anything the elf could actually do, except to wait with Snape so he wasn't alone.

Once Tiggy had agreed, Hermione went in search of a book in Snape's library that contained the instructions for the Wiggenweld potion. She'd never made it before, although she'd read about it, of course, and from what she could remember, it wasn't a particularly difficult potion to brew. Since Snape didn't have any in his stores she would have to make it herself, and she didn't trust her memory enough to make it without instructions.

It took her a few minutes to find the correct book, and by the time she finished reading through the method she knew she wouldn't have the time to brew the potion before she had to meet Harry. Looking up at the library clock she estimated that there was little more than 15 minutes before she had used the time-turner to go back. She needed to be ready to enter Snape's office at the same time. No matter how much she wanted to stay with Snape, she owed it to her friend to stand by him and support him as he prepared to go to his own death. Waking him up would have to wait until after the battle.

Snapping the book shut, she returned quickly to the bedroom, where she arranged for to Tiggy to watch over him until she returned, and to find her if there was a problem. Hermione then spent a few minutes setting up the lab to make the Wiggenweld potion as soon as she came back. Before she left the lab she grabbed an empty phial and filled it with a few choice memories. She left Tiggy with a few last minute instructions on what to do if something happened to her during the battle, and a list of people the elf could go to for help. The memories were left by the side of Snape's bed, in case Tiggy needed some help in convincing someone to aid the much-hated headmaster.

Hermione grabbed the cloak that Tiggy had draped carefully over a chair, and threw it over one arm. Stroking the material softly she considered. Should she tell Harry what she had done? _Better not. If Voldemort finds out Severus is not dead he might coming looking for him._ Her eyes darted to the unnaturally still form lying on the bed. She couldn't risk it. She'd worked too hard to save him. Hermione did so hate lying to Harry though, and Merlin knew she'd done enough of that today already.

She needed to go, but now the moment had come she found she didn't want to leave. She stepped up to the side of the bed and looked down at him silently for a moment. Tiggy seemed to understand her hesitation, for she jumped up to stand on the bed next to Hermione and tugged gently on her jumper.

"Don't worry, Miss. Tiggy knows how to look after sir. Tiggy will make sure Sir is safe and well."

She tore her eyes away from the pale face on the pillow and smiled down at the earnest one looking up at her. "Thank you Tiggy. He's in the best hands, I'm sure."

Tiggy beamed up at her as if she'd given her a huge present, before shuffling off to straighten the blankets. Hermione turned back to Snape, steeling herself to leave him, as the horrible feeling that she had somehow failed him burned in her veins. Bending down, she pressed a kiss first to his lips, then another, lingering one to his forehead, trying to ignore how cold his skin felt _. I'll be back. It'll all be ok… I love you_ , she thought. Trailing a finger down his cheek one last time, she took a deep breath before turning and leaving the room without another look.

Creeping quietly down the hall she came to the closed door to Snape's office. She reached out to turn the handle slowly and pushed the door open a tiny crack, so she could peer down into the room below. Hermione could just make out herself sitting on the step before the large wooden desk, facing away from where she stood now. She watched as her past self picked up a phial from beside her and used her wand to place her memory back in her head. She stiffened for a moment, before sinking back against the step and dropping her head in her hands.

At the same time Harry appeared out of the pensieve, wide eyed and grave. For a few moments he stared vacantly at nothing, before giving himself a small shake and turning round to look at the figure on the steps. His forehead furrowed in concern as he took in her state, and he slowly crossed the room to stand in front of her. With only the slightest gap to peek through Hermione didn't hear what he said to her, although a few moments later when her past self looked up and jumped in shock she heard herself squeal.

"Harry! Don't scare me like that! Why didn't you say something instead of sneaking up on me?"

Harry's reply was barely audible as he sat down next to her, and for the next couple of minutes Hermione strained to hear any of the conversation between the two of them, instead having to watch as they comforted each other with quiet words and gestures. She recognised the moment Harry told her about being a horcrux, and her lack of reaction led to the realisation that she had already known and not told him.

A few moments later her past self was scrabbling in her pockets for the time-turner, hope blossoming on her face as she gazed down at the device in her hands. Harry was still talking, but it wasn't until he laid a hand on her arm that she heard him.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I've got to go," Hermione heard faintly.

"Go where…? What do you mean?"

"I've got to go back. He needs me…"

"I'll come with you."

"No, Harry. I need to do this by myself. Besides, it's too dangerous for you to go. What if something happened and you couldn't get to Voldemort. I'll be back before you know it, Harry. I promise."

The time-turner was around her neck now, and quickly she turned the dial and disappeared before Harry had time to convince her to take him too. He was left staring at the stop where she'd disappeared, but after the disbelief had worn off he turned and looked at the entrance back into the castle as if waiting for something.

By this time Hermione had pushed the door silently open and descended the stairs to stand nervously behind him.

"Harry…?"


	62. Chapter 62

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

  


* * *

It was over.

As the last sounds of the battle faded around her, she looked around the ruin that was the Great Hall. The last few Death Eaters that had continued to fight after Voldemort had died were being rounded up and brought to the middle of the room.

Ron, Luna, Neville and herself had raced back into the thick of the fighting almost as soon as Neville had decapitated the snake. They had left the engorged body where it had fallen on the staircase and gone to help their friends, but it hadn't been long after they entered the hall before she'd felt a strange surge of power wash over her. From the sudden lull in the fighting she'd assumed everyone else had felt it too. The moan from the Death-Eater in from of her had been mirrored by others around the room as they had clutched at their arms, and suddenly Hermione had known what had happened. Voldemort was dead.

Of course that had not been the end of it, and after a few moments of shock everyone had eagerly set to subduing the remaining dark wizards. Some had given up immediately, disheartened by the death of their leader as well as the overwhelming number against them. Others, perhaps spurred on by previous memories of Azkaban, or the knowledge of what would happen to them, had fought harder than before and killed or taken down several more of the castle's defenders before being brought down themselves.

As the last one was felled a cheer went up around the room, intensifying as Harry appeared in the doorway. Hermione was one of the first to move, racing across the room, her friends close behind her. Grabbing Harry, she pulled him into a hug, and moments later Ginny's arms snuck under hers to loop around Harry's waist, before Ron's larger ones crashed around the whole group.

They all held onto each other tightly for a few moments, unable to speak as the noise swelled around them. Then the crowd descended upon them, pulling the group apart as they were jostled with pats on the back and eager congratulations. Soon Hermione found herself lost in the sea of well-wishers, unable to see Harry as the crowd around him was thickest. Suddenly claustrophobic surround by so many people pushing and shoving after weeks of quiet and solitude, Hermione pushed her way to the edge of the crowd.

Looking back she could just about make out Harry in the middle now, and she was struck with the same amazement that she had felt before when he had jumped out of Hagrid's arms, to the dismay of Voldemort and his supporters, and the delight of everyone else. _How did he survive? Did Snape know this would happen? But why wouldn't he have said something if he had?_ She was eager to know the story, but there were more important things to do first.

Not far from where she stood, Ron also pushed his way out, and with a bashful grin at her, quickly made his way to where Luna was standing, watching everyone with a dreamy smile, and pulled her in for a kiss that she returned enthusiastically.

Hermione smiled at the sight, surprised to find herself completely unaffected by the sight. Ron just wasn't who she wanted anymore, and she was sure that Luna would be a far better match for him than she ever would. There was only one man she wanted, and he was currently unconscious in a room near the top of the castle, waiting for her to revive him. She looked past the couple to where Mr and Mrs Weasley were standing with their arms around each other, watching the celebrations with sad smiles. _There's no point raising their hopes yet,_ Hermione though, unsure if her earlier efforts had paid off.

With one last look around the hall she left, sure that in all the commotion she wouldn't be missed for some time. Unsure of how Snape would be received by so many who had seen only the bad, especially over the last year, she didn't want to alert anyone as to his presence in the castle. Whatever his condition, however, upon waking up, she resolved to speak to McGonagall, as the only person besides Harry who understood what had really been going on, and see what advice she had as to how to proceed.

There were many people in the areas around the hall, and as she walked quickly through the corridors and up towards the top of the castle she met the occasional person tiredly making their way down. The halls around the headmaster's office were silent except for the sound of her footsteps. The piles of rubble and chipped stone were absent here, so far from where the main fighting had taken place, and the emptiness and quiet seemed almost oppressive after the noise of the battle. Hermione peeked around, half sure someone was watching her, although the presence didn't seem threatening.

She reached the statue that guarded the steps up to Snape's office. She now remembered hearing it close behind her as she'd left under Harry's cloak on the way to the Shrieking Shack earlier. She reached a hand out towards the statue. _How am I supposed to get in? Severus didn't use a password earlier._ But before her fingers could touch the cold stone it began to move, the phoenix turning to allow her access. After a moment of frozen surprise she quickly jumped onto the ascending staircase, and began taking the steps up two at a time in her eagerness to return to Snape.

Carelessly throwing the door at the top open she raced into his office, feeling the gentle tingle of his wards wash over her as she crossed the threshold. A few moments later she was rushing down the hall towards his bedroom, her heart pounding in anticipation of what she would find. _He's got to be ok, Tiggy never came to get me…_

* * *

Hermione added the last of the salamander blood with one hand as she continued to stir the potion with the other. She watched as slowly the colour turned from pink to green, and she heaved a sigh of relief. Perfect first time. Luckily she'd brewed it once before, in her 6th year, and while her own potion had been acceptable, she'd kept one eye on Harry as he'd followed the scribbled notes in his textbook. Now that she knew that the amendments to the potions had been made by Severus she felt confident in following them, and had used her impressive memory to recall the few changes to the potion that had been suggested. She had berated Harry every single time he'd deviated from the original method after all, so it hadn't been all that difficult to remember.

The brew had only taken her around forty-five minutes to make, and had turned out far better than her first attempt. Turning off the heat under that cauldron with a wave of her wand she reached for the two empty phials she'd set out on the bench, before double checking the method for the correct dosage. The potion needed to cool for two minutes before bottling, so she glanced up at the clock set on the wall to mark the time. The seconds seemed to stretch on and on, and unconsciously she began to drum her fingers lightly on the worktop as she waited, impatient to get back to the man lying in the next room.

She'd found him as well as he could be, tended by an anxious and jittery Tiggy, who'd been so overjoyed by her safe return that she'd burst into tears, launching herself at Hermione's legs and holding on tight as Hermione had tried to check on Snape's condition. In the end she'd had to make up some jobs for the elf to do to get her to move, and Tiggy had immediately disappeared to carry out her tasks. A cold platter of food now waited for her in the bedroom, although she'd been too fixated on the potion to give another thought to her growing stomach. Hopefully the elf was making herself useful rustling up food for the other survivors, although Hermione had warned her she may call for her again at any time.

Finally the second hand on the clock ticked past the two minute mark, and quickly she ladled the correct amount of the potion into each phial, corking only one of them. Carrying both she left the lab, her heart in her mouth now the moment of truth had come. _Did I do enough…?_

Placing the corked phial carefully on the table she looked across to where Snape lay. She hated how still he was, he reminded her all too much of the lifeless bodies of the dead that had been left where they'd fallen. She couldn't even pretend to herself that he was only sleeping, for there wasn't even the tell-tale movement of his chest rising and falling to help her. The dark room suddenly appeared to close in around her, and for a few heartbeats the silence seemed to be the deathly quiet of a tomb.

_He's not dead…_ Hermione let out the ragged breath she'd been holding, and the noise of it shattered the illusion she'd created for herself. She stepped across the room and lowered herself onto the bed beside Snape, leaning over him and gently smoothing her hand over his hair as she bolstered her courage. Biting her lip she sent up one last prayer to whoever was listening, and pulled out her wand.

"Ad ventriculum libera." Impulsively she pressed her lips to his, in imitation of the wizard who had woken the princess in the story.

Sitting back, she breathlessly looked for some sign of life, but Snape was just as pale and motionless as before. Just as she was starting to panic over the lack of response there was a low gasping sound deep in Snape's throat, and suddenly he began to breathe, his lungs pulling in the air unsteadily, and at the sight it was all she could do to blink back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Oh Gods, Severus," she whispered, grabbing his hand with hers instead of throwing herself across his chest as she wished to do. "I'm here, come back to me." She squeezed his hand gently and watched his face to see if he was waking up, but for a minute all that happened was that his chest moved up and down shallowly. She began to worry that his breathing did not seem to be improving and soon was on the verge for shouting for Tiggy in the hopes that she could fetch either Madame Pomphrey or McGonagall, the need for secrecy shattered by her fear that he would not live.

Then, suddenly, his hand twitched in hers. She glanced down in surprise, half sure that the movement was merely just wishful thinking on her part. But then he moved again, his fingers curling round hers for a moment and a sudden warmth seemed to spread through her. Hermione's gaze returned quickly to his face, to find his eyes, tired and heavy with confusion, fixed on hers.

 

* * *

 

The overriding emotion Snape had felt as he began to slip slowly into unconsciousness was relief. Relief that it was over, that he had finally come to the end of the long, dark road he had set out upon so many years ago. Relief that he had somehow managed to complete his final task and could now finally leave this world to be with the one he had loved for so long.

A small part of him had whispered that that last though was somehow wrong, but as Lily's green eyes filled his darkening vision he didn't seem to be able to work out why. Strangely enough, he'd thought that dying wasn't anywhere near as painful as he'd feared, but felt almost as if he was just falling asleep. He'd barely been able to feel the wounds at his neck, and although he'd known the snake's venom was causing his blood to congeal in his veins, he'd been able to feel his heart pounding in his chest when it should have been stuttering to a halt.

A slight movement in the room had caught his eye, and with effort he'd shifted his gaze from Lily's eyes, only for it to fall on the girl standing behind, her face filled with shock and horror. _Hermione…_ His eyes had widened in sudden remembrance. _Not Lily…. doing it for her… for the girl… love her…_

Another wave of relief had broken over him as he realised that by giving the boy his memories he had surely save her the difficulty and humiliation of having to do so herself, and revealing her association with him. From the confusion on her face he had known that she wasn't in full possession of her memories. _She probably would have tried to save me if she'd known…_ A sharp pang had pierced his heart as he'd realised that he would die as the woman he truly loved watched in ignorance, uncaring.

Even as he'd slipped further into unconsciousness and his vision began to dim he'd ached for her to understand, that he'd gone to his death knowing his fate, that he'd done it for her and for the better, bright future she would have without his darkness weighing her down. _All for you, my love…_ In a final moment of weakness he'd reached toward her, but then his heart had finally stopped racing and the world had gone black. One last had drifted down the tunnel of his fading awareness; _My one gift to you, my love… your life._

* * *

The first sense to return was touch. Slowly he became aware of being cocooned in softness and warmth, and a sense of peace enveloped him. _Is this what dying feels like?_ It wasn't what he had expected. For almost twenty years, ever since he had thrown himself on the mercy of the light, he had assumed there was a place reserved in hell for someone like him. _But where am I?_ He could feel his limbs now, heavy and lethargic. _I have a body?_

Suddenly he was conscious of a dim light surrounding him, coming from nowhere and everywhere. Then from somewhere far away he could hear his name being called. For a moment he thought it sounded like Hermione's voice, but he knew that it couldn't be anything more than wishful thinking. He was dead, finally, after so many years of wishing to be so, but the woman he had wished to find here was no longer the one he longed for. Regret lanced through him, regret for his wasted life, and bitterness that the fates had only allowed him to find love when it was too late.

_But at least I had a taste before the end…_ His heart seemed to pound faster at the thought. Lost in the vast nothingness surrounding him, he held onto the precious memory of her coming apart beneath him, of realising that he loved her, as her held her tightly to him. The fact that she had never spoken of love to him was a moot point. She had given herself to him, had protected him like no other during his miserable existence on Earth, and now he had passed on to…wherever this place was, there was nothing to spoil the memory of his one perfect moment. _Hermione…_

The light seemed to be getting brighter and he could feel his heart thumping wildly in trepidation as he realised he could feel another presence somewhere nearby. It was so close he could almost feel it touching him. He twitched the muscles in his limbs experimentally, and then he knew somehow that there was a hand in his. _I have a hand… a body?_ He couldn't understand. He had never had a clear view of what he had expected from the afterlife, but this was not it. The sensations he was feeling were too strong, the beating of his heart almost painful in his chest.

The peace he had felt earlier was dissipating fast, although there was something familiar and comforting about the scent emanating from the body next to him. From a distance, everything seemed to rush towards his consciousness at once, and he squeezed the hand that was gripping his in alarm.

He could now perceive that he was lying on something soft, and that, instead of being surrounded by light, he actually had his eyes closed against the glare of his surroundings. He forced them open, blinking painfully, and taking a few seconds to adjust to the brightness. Slowly the room around him came into focus, and suddenly he realised that she _was_ there. He frowned in confusion. _He_ was dead. She shouldn't be here… unless… The heart that shouldn't have been beating felt like it was going to burst with the pressure.

Then as her eyes slowly lifted from where their hands were conjoined, sudden comprehension came to him. Her eyes fixed on his with such hope and love shining in their amber depths that it stole away the breath he hadn't expected to have. _I'm alive._ His surprise quickly turned to anger. This wasn't supposed to happen. She'd tricked him, making him believe he was going to die, and he'd done what was expected of him, believing he was doing the right thing for her. He licked his lips and swallowed with difficulty, trying to bring some moisture to his dry and aching throat.

"What…. What have you done?

* * *

Hermione slowly slid to the floor as the magical bonds holding her wrists against the wall disappeared, dropping her head into her arms as she sobbed louder. The last few minutes had passed so quickly in a whirlwind of emotions and madness. She could barely understand what had happened. The only thing that she was sure of was that he was gone. _And my heart with him._

_xx_

_She sat at his side, shocked and open-mouthed, unable to form a reply as he continued to berate her in a scratchy, rough version of his normally sensual drawl. Not that she would be able to get a word in edgeways. Snape wouldn't look at her, and despite his voice getting hoarser he continued to speak. She squeaked in indignation as he rebuked her for saving him, even going so far as to accuse her of deliberately making him think he was going to die._

_Tears started to gather in her eyes. She'd never said anything about him dying, and unless he had pushed into her thoughts she wasn't sure how he had even got the idea in his head. It wasn't her fault that he had not expected to return from the shack. Was it truly so bad that he had survived? Surely he wanted to live. She couldn't understand why he was so upset about her saving him. She'd been convinced that he had felt something for her, if the way that he'd held her and made love to her earlier could be believed. So what had she done wrong?_

_Indignation rose in her, then was quickly quashed as she recalled how courageous he must have been to walk to his death so calmly. Perhaps his reaction could be blamed on the shock of his waking when he had not believed he would._ Or perhaps he truly wanted to die… what does that say about how he feel for you, though? _The sudden absence of sound drew her out of her thoughts, and she realised his tirade had stopped._

_"Severus, please, don't be angry with me, I thought you'd be happy. I thought you wanted…"_

_"Out of my way, girl." He'd already pulled the covers of and was shuffling around, trying to get his legs off the side of the bed away from her._

Girl… I thought we were past that… _"Please, I only did it because…" she paused, suddenly nervous at what she wanted to say. Snape seemed to pause to listen, so she gathered her courage and spoke before he had the change to grow impatient. "…because… I love you…"she finished in a half whisper._

_He was motionless for a few seconds, and she waited breathlessly for his response, her heart pounding fiercely in her chest. There was no reply. Instead, after a moment his shoulder slumped and his head drooped. Her stomach plunged, and she felt horribly sick._ He doesn't know how to tell me… he doesn't feel the same. Oh gods…

_"Severus, I don't…" She tried to grab for his hand, wanting to tell him she understood, but he pulled it out of her reach and shakily got to his feet, pulling a blanket around his waist with one hand as he pressed a hand to his chest and winced in pain. Her own heartbreak was forgotten immediately in the face of his ill-health, and her sudden panic that something was seriously wrong. "You shouldn't be out of bed, you've lost so much blood, I need to get Madame Pomphrey to check you over first…"_

_He wasn't listening, and with a flare of panic, she realised that he had found the wand that had been set out on the bedside table by Tiggy sometime earlier._

_"Severus, what are you…?" She forgot what she was about to say as he turned to face her. His face, which had been so pale and wan a short time earlier, was red and flushed, and he was holding himself strangely, as if in pain. "What's wrong? Your face…."_

_Snape moved towards her unsteadily, and she wrapped her arm_ s _around his waist to hold him steady, again cutting off what she was about to say. She looked up at him, hoping he'd come to his senses and that he'd just been confused upon waking up. His eyes were glazed and feverish, their expression strangely wild, but for a moment she could have sworn that there was a glimmer of tenderness in his gaze as he looked back at her silently._

_Hermione held her breath, not wanting to break the spell, half expecting for his to lean down to kiss her. Slowly he lifted up his hand to stroke her cheek, and she closed her eyes to lean into it. His thumb stroked gently across her skin, and she couldn't hold back the small sigh of pleasure that spilled from her parted lips._

_At the sound he tensed, and his hand fell from her face. She felt a tugging feeling at her neck, her hair pulled to one side, and she opened her eyes in confusion. He moved away from her as quickly as he'd stumbled into her arms, and it took a few seconds for her to realise what he was wrapping round his neck._

_Her stomach tightened in dread. "What are you doing," she cried, darting towards him, but quicker than she thought possible considering the pain he was obviously in, his wand came up in her face. She stopped, stunned with incomprehension, and he took the chance to wordlessly cast a spell at her, forcing her back against the wall and pinning her wrists against the cold stone. But then he stumbled, pressing one hand to his heart before righted himself with a wince._

_"Severus, what's wrong? Please let me help you. You need to let me go… please, Severus," she begged._

_He didn't reply. Instead, as he held himself upright with difficulty, he pointed his wand at the object in his hands and whispered a spell she recognised. Realising what he was about to do she began to implore him again, her desperation obvious in her voice._

_"No, please don't. You're not well, you need to see a doctor, something's wrong. Please, don't do this, don't go. If you don't want me, I can go, just please don't use it, please…" she babbled, almost incoherent with terror at what he was about to do._

_Snape looked up at her then, the pain in his eyes clear. "I'm sorry, for everything… he whispered in a voice that was just loud enough to reach her. He paused for a moment, his gaze searching her face as if looking for something and she began to beg harder, thinking she was reaching him. His own face crumpled in anguish, before he looked down at the object in his hand and turned the dial twice._

_xx_

Now huddled on the floor, tears rolling down her cheeks, she couldn't get those last few seconds out of her head. For, as he'd hesitated, his face had changed, scrunching up in pain. His body had gone slack, and Hermione had been forced to watch, unable to help as he'd crumpled, falling towards the floor as he clutched at his heart.

He'd never hit the floor, however, for the moment the time-turner around his neck had slipped from his fingers it had begun to spin, and Hermione had managed no more than a frantic scream of despair before he'd disappeared.


	63. Chapter 63

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Sorry for the lack of replies, again it's late and I have an early morning. I respond to all your lovely reviews next time. Thanks for all the encouragement!

* * *

Hermione came to slowly, her swollen eyelids fluttering open. She lifted her head and looked around in confusion, wondering for a few moments why she had fallen asleep on the floor. Then it all came flooding back to her, Snape's fury upon waking and his sneaky appropriation of the time-turner. …And the way he had collapsed a moment before he disappeared, and how she had cried herself into insensibility before falling asleep.

Hermione batted away the tears that had crept onto her cheeks before pushing herself up until she was sitting, leaning against the wall. He was gone, and there was nothing that crying would do to change that. Although… that incantation that he used… _I need to check the library for the translation. If I'm correct…_ If she _was_ correct it would be some time before she was able to do anything to help Snape though, and there were other things that were more important right now. Looking up at the clock she realised she had slept for about 3 hours, although she still felt terribly tired and stiff from lying on the floor. _Well what with the time-turner and everything else that's happened, I must have been awake for well over 24 hours._

Deciding the floor was too uncomfortable to stay there any longer, she got to her feet with a wince as her muscles protested. She really should get back to the others, they would probably be wondering where she was by now. She moved across to stand by the bed, silently staring down at the rumpled sheets and thrown back blankets. Tiggy obviously hadn't been back in the time she'd been asleep. Reaching down, Hermione pulled the blanket straight, tucking the corner back in and smoothing the wrinkles out as she thought about the man who had occupied the bed not long ago.

Why had he left her? She could understand his surprise at being alive, even perhaps that he would find it difficult to deal with having made his peace with the world, yet wake up to find himself still in it. But why had he been so angry? Had he really been so desperate to die? She'd truly believed he'd… well, did it matter what she had thought? He'd made his feelings clear by his actions.

She sighed and turned to sit on the bed, ignoring the new wrinkles she was making in the neat covers. _Gods, he couldn't even look at me when I told him… surely he must have known, or at least guessed how I felt._ She hadn't been secretive about her emotions, and he'd surely been in her head enough times to see for himself. Why hadn't he said something before? _Because you both needed for you to believe you felt something for him, in order to make your lives easier…_

Hermione cringed as she remembered how she'd had to convince Snape to give her that lust potion, or how she had thrown herself at him so many times. He was obviously able to understand, as she clearly hadn't, that the whole thing was a pretence, that he had just encouraged her attachment because it was useful in the circumstances. He'd clearly been embarrassed by her misunderstanding of the situation and her declaration of love a few hours ago. But what about how he made love to her when she'd gone back to save him? _A dying man's last chance for a moment of comfort…?_

She rubbed her dry eyes tiredly as she lay herself down, curling up in a ball on the side of the bed that had been hers. She'd cried herself out earlier, and wasn't sure that she was capable of more tears, despite the feeling of grief that washed over her. The pillow that Snape had been using still held the indentation of his head and she reached out to stroke it gently.

Another thought came to her then. They'd planned for him to seduce her, to create false feelings. What if Snape believed that her feelings for him were not real? She grabbed on corner of the pillow and pulled it towards her, wrapping her arms around it and holding it tight against her. She closed her eyes and burrowed her nose into the fabric. _What if my feelings_ aren't _real, though? No, I love him, I want him back. Severus… why did you leave me? I need you…_ The tears did come then, silently, soaking into the pillow that still smelled of him.

* * *

Hermione work with a strangled gasp, the remnants of the dream still clinging to her mind. She'd been running, chasing something through the trees, never gaining, but also being chased by something else in return. The wood had been silent around her, except for her own unnaturally loud breathing, and the pounding of her feet on the ground as she ran. The sound still seemed to echo in her ears as she pushed herself upright.

She hadn't meant to fall asleep again, only lie down for a few minutes, but looking back up at the clock she saw that she'd slept for much longer this time, and it was now late afternoon. Her body had clearly needed the rest, as had her mind, which felt much clearer than it had before, although still thick with sleep. The realisation that her friends would have realised she was missing and be worried suddenly hit her. _Shit… I need to get up._

She had got to her feet and used her wand to cast a quick cleaning charm over her crumpled and dirty clothes before she realised she could still hear the pounding that she'd assumed to be part of her dream. Keeping her wand in her hand she left the bedroom with a final glance around and went in search of the origin of the noise. It seemed to be coming from Snape's study, so she crept down the hall towards the door, her heart pounding faster with the hope of finding Snape in there. Peeking round to peer into the room she found the room empty, the banging instead coming from the door into the rest of the castle.

Her hopes dashed, she made her way across the study and pulled the door open quickly, raising her wand in case whoever was on the other side was unfriendly.

Stunned as the door disappeared from under his knuckles, Harry froze for a moment before letting his arm fall back down to his side.

"Hermione, where have you been? We've been looking all over!" He reached out to pull her into a hug, but his fingers bounced off a surface that shimmered slightly at his touch. He winced and pulled them back, flexing them as if hurt. "Why can't I get in? Did you put up wards?" He looked hurt at the thought that she might have purposely stopped him from entering.

"It wasn't me. I know Se… Snape put up lots of wards to stop people getting in." It hurt to talk of him.

"But how did you get in then? And what about earlier? There were no wards to stop us then," he replied.

Hermione slowly extended her arm, and as her fingers passed through the wards she then remembered Snape adding her signature so she could enter. But why was Harry unable to get through now when he had earlier? She thought back to try and remember exactly what they'd done before. But before she could say anything Harry had grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him, through the wards, and wrapped his arms around her.

"Merlin, Hermione, we were so worried! No one has seen you for hours and when we couldn't find you we thought something bad had happened. It was ages before I remembered the map was in your bag and thought to use it. What were you doing?"

"I'm so sorry," she cried into his shoulder as she dug her fingers into his back, "I came back to… to… and then I fell asleep. I didn't mean to scare you, I was just so tired." She was torn over what to tell him regarding Snape. Whatever Harry had seen in his memories had obviously convinced him that Snape had been helping them, but would that overcome all the year of dislike and antagonism between the two of them? It was far easier to forgive someone you thought was dead. _He still might be dead…_

"Shhh, it's ok. Don't worry, Hermione. As long as you're safe…" Harry comforted her, gently rubbing her back, his voice betraying his confusion over her tearful reaction. It took her a few moments to pull herself together, and eventually she pushed herself back out of his embrace, forcing a smile on to her face as she looked up at him. He looked like he was about to start questions her, and suddenly fearful that he would want to know why she had felt the need to return to the head's study, she diverted his attention back to the wards.

"I think I know how you got in before. Snape added me to the wards, and he knew you would need to enter at some point." She noticed his brow furrow as if part of that statement confused him, but she ploughed on. "I think he presumed I would be with you. Let me…" She grabbed his hand, before stepping back through the wards into the room, and pulling him with her. This time he passed through with no problems. "We were holding hands last time."

"I don't understand… Why would Snape know…?"

"Miss Granger… I thought I would find you here." The voice from the stairwell made them jump, and they turned to face Professor McGonagall, who was making her way up the last few steps. "Potter…" She nodded amiably to Harry. She tried to step through to join them, but again the wards shimmered as she pressed against them, stopping her from entering.

"Miss Granger, I assume these are your work?" She waved at the air in front of her.

"No, Professor, they're Professor Snape's wards, but I can get you through." Hermione reached out through the wards to offer the older witch her hand. McGonagall looked at her strangely, before grasping her hand. Hermione stepped back, trying to bring McGonagall with her, but as her fingers touched the wards she hissed in pain, letting go of Hermione's hand and stepping back.

"I don't understand… It worked with Harry."

"Miss Granger, you say these wards were put up by Professor Snape's?" McGonagall replied, pressing her hand lightly to the shimmering curtain guarding the door again, as if to test them.

"Yes, why? …Oh!" Hermione suddenly cottoned on to what McGonagall had already realised.

Harry looked from one witch to the other. "What is it? What's the problem?"

McGonagall fixed her eyes on Hermione's. "I was under the impression Professor Snape had died during the battle."

"Yes, I saw it happen. That snake…" Harry bit the rest of the sentence off and shivered in disgust at the memory. "But what has that got to do with the wards."

Hermione chewed her bottom lip in consternation as McGonagall held her gaze, her eyes hopeful. She knew the other woman had figured out, at least in part what Hermione had done, and there was nothing left but for Hermione to confess. "Harry, the wards… if he was dead…"

"… they would have stopped working," Harry realised out loud, recalling a half-forgotten piece of information from a class years ago. "Snape's alive? But we saw him die! I don't…"

"I believe Miss Granger should be able to enlighten us on that score." McGonagall looked past them, into the study. "Is he here?"

"No… he's gone." Her eyes felt dry and scratchy, and she fought the urge to cry again. "I healed him, only it didn't work properly, and he left before I could help him."

"I think you'd better come with me. We need to inform the others we have found you, and then you can both come with me while you explain everything, Miss Granger. I'm sure we can find somewhere in the castle that has not been damaged that we can all enter. This is not a conversation to be having where others can hear us. I think it's best that no one knows of this yet, so not a word to anyone, either of you." She turned to descend the stairs, not needing to check that they were following.

 

* * *

She rubbed at her sore eyes, before lifting the steaming cup of tea to her lips, aware of the worried eyes of McGonagall and Harry on her. They'd listened to her story of how she had gone back to save Snape mainly in silence, with the occasional question from the former and exclamations of surprise from the latter.

Hermione was grateful that the professor hadn't alluded to anything she knew about Snape's and her own relationship in front of Harry. It wasn't that she was ashamed of what had happened, but she was sure it would take some explaining, and her feeling were far too raw for such a discussion. From the subtle glances McGonagall kept flicking at her, though, she was sure that as soon as she managed to get her alone, she would be asking the questions she hadn't so far.

Despite the decent amount of time she'd managed to sleep she felt drained and emotionally exhausted after explaining what had happened without breaking down into tears again. She missed him, especially now the horror of battle and the chaos that had accompanied it had died down. There hadn't been time earlier to adjust to life outside his rooms again, she'd been thrown into the midst of it and hadn't had time to stop and think since the fighting began.

Now, despite the fact that the battle was won and the dark wizards rounded up, she felt alone and exposed without him by her side, or by being tucked up in his rooms. Even before being captured, most of the previous year had been spent with no company besides the two boys, and she'd become accustomed to a quiet, solitary life. Since returning to Hogwarts, she'd barely seen anyone besides Snape, and she'd come to rely on his calming presence so much, even when she'd been in doubt of his feeling and intentions towards her. He felt… safe.

Hermione had to fight down the temptation to run to his rooms and hide herself away behind his wards, to curl up in his bed and take comfort from the scent of him that lingered there. Sitting here with just two other people made her feel uncomfortable enough, she wasn't sure how she was going to face more. She'd been running on adrenaline earlier, when she had first gone to meet her friends in the Room of Requirement, and look how that had worked out. She'd been on the verge of freaking out when everyone had started to accuse her of coming to spy on them.

It might be safe for people to know Snape's true loyalties now that Voldemort was dead, but would people actually believe him, and how would they react to her relationship with him, such as it was. Would people understand? She wasn't even sure she wanted anyone to know what had happened between the two of them. She needed to figure out what to do, and quick, for surely there would be awkward questions to answer from many sides.

The room was silent for a minute as the three of them sipped their drinks. The only sound in the room was the tapping of McGonagall's fingers on the Latin dictionary on her lap. Harry was the first to speak.

"So, what do we do now?

Hermione said nothing, her gaze flickering across to McGonagall in the hopes that she would have some idea of what could be done.

"There is little we can do for Professor Snape…"

"But he…" Hermione started, but McGonagall raised a hand and Hermione automatically fell silent.

McGonagall continued. "There is little we can do at the moment to help him. If your memory of the spell he used is correct, and I've no doubt it is, then we have a good deal of time to prepare."

Hermione slumped back against the back of the chair glumly. _Two years…_ Two years she would have to wait before she could see _him_ , the man she loved, and who needed her to save him. How would she bear waiting that long to be with him again? Tears started to prick at the corner of her eyes yet again. Why had he left her? After the moment they'd shared when she'd arrived back in his office she'd thought that perhaps they had a chance for something… more. Her heart ached with the thought that maybe it hadn't meant as much to him as it had for her.

"To begin with there will be some sort of inquest into what has happened, and I'm sure many of us will be called upon to testify in the Death-Eater trials to come." She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. "If there is indeed the chance that Severus does survive his injuries, then perhaps it would be a good idea to press for some sort of recognition of true allegiance so there are no problems when he does return. I would hope that between the three of us we should be able to provide enough evidence." She looked across at Hermione, her expression sympathetic.

"Snape's memories should still be in the pensieve, so we can use those too," Harry piped up, looking from McGonagall to Hermione. "But should we tell people about what happened to Snape. Everyone thinks he's dead, Voldemort _did_ announce it in front of a lot of people. Do we tell everyone, or do we wait until… you know…"

"For the moment at least, I believe we should keep this to ourselves. I have already been given the position of acting head, with the intention that it becomes permanent, once the Ministry sorts itself out and a new Minister is elected. I should have been able to enter the Head's study, but the wards are still active. I need to study them and see whether there is a way in. If not, it means the castle still recognises Severus as the Headmaster, which may cause a problem. Miss Granger, perhaps you and I could meet later and take a look at the wards together, perhaps tomorrow." She looked pointedly at Hermione, who realised that the older woman wanted to discuss more than the wards with her.

"Of course, Professor," she replied, her stomach tightening with apprehension. She was sure that McGonagall wasn't going to make the conversation to come easy on her.

"As for this evening, I believe there is little we can do besides taking some time to rest. The next few weeks will be very busy with clearing up and repairing the castle, as well as dealing with the wider implications of Voldemort's influence over the wizarding world. You are of course welcome to stay as long as you need, as is anyone else who needs a home for now. Certain areas of the castle were barely damaged in the fighting, so we have plenty of space."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry replied. "If you need any help…"

"It would be appreciated, Potter, especially if we are to be in any state to open our doors to students in September."

They both looked across to Hermione, who had stayed silent.

"Potter, will you make sure she finds a room to…"

"I want to go back to Severus's rooms," she blurted out, "I'm the only one that can get in there at the moment, and it will free up a bed elsewhere for someone else."

For a moment she thought McGonagall was going to refuse, but after a moment she nodded her head. Hermione stopped listening as soon as she knew she wouldn't be stopped from returning. She was finding it difficult to think of anything beyond curling up in Snape's bed once more, despite having come from the not long previously.

"Let me know where you are staying as well, Potter, in case I need to find you." McGonagall pushed herself slowly to her feet. "I'm going to get some sleep. I've been running on Pepper Up potions for the last 12 hours and I refuse to do any more until I've rested. I suggest you both do the same."

She waited as the two of them stood and accompanied them as they moved towards the door. Hermione was quiet and downcast, and she missed the worried look that passed between McGonagall and Harry.

"Look after her, Potter." McGonagall said as she pulled open the door.

"I will," he replied, gently pulling on Hermione's arm as they left McGonagall's rooms. "Come on Hermione. See you tomorrow, Professor."

The door closed behind them, and Harry took her hand to lead her down the hall. They walked without speaking for a minute before Harry broke the silence.

"Hermione… I can tell something's wrong. What aren't you telling me?"

She didn't reply except to shake her head, her eyes stuck on the flagstones before her feet. She wasn't ready to talk, not yet, and she was dreading the chat she would have to have with McGonagall the following day.

"Is it… Snape? What happened, Hermione? You were with him for around 2 months. Did he treat you ok?"

"Yes, Harry," she replied. "But I don't really want to talk about it right now." _Not that I know what to tell you in any case._ She definitely didn't want explain to her friends the details of what had happened. _They wouldn't understand…_ The fact that McGonagall knew as much as she did was humiliating enough.

Harry was quiet as they walked down a corridor before climbing a set of staircases. She could almost feel her feet speed up as they drew nearer to the Headmaster's room.

"Hermione, why do you want to stay in his rooms so much? It's a bit weird. Why don't you come and stay with all of us somewhere together.

She sighed. "Please Harry, I just want to stay there. I feel safe there… please understand." She laid her hand on his arm and looked up at him pleadingly.

He looked back at her strangely, and she knew he had a hundred more questions he wanted to ask, but she saw as he managed to reign himself in and nod his head reluctantly at her insistence and lack of verbosity. They were quiet for a few more minutes until they reached the corridor that lead to the gargoyle guarding the spiral staircase.

"Why would he only allow you access?" Harry wondered out loud, as the gargoyle began to move upon Hermione's touch.

She only looked at him silently as the staircase ascended, and he grinned and threw his hands up in mock surrender. "I know, I know, you don't want to talk about it yet."

They reached the top, and Hermione reached to twist to twist open the door handle. Before she could step inside, Harry stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Can I come in for a few minutes?"

When Hermione hesitated he continues quickly. "I won't stay long. It's just… I'm worried about you, Hermione. "Besides…" His gaze flickered past her into the room beyond. "…I should get Snape's memories, they're going to be needed to help him."

Hermione just wanted him to go so she could retreat into Snape's rooms once day. "I can do that. They're probably safer staying in here for now anyway. _And maybe I can take a look… fill in some of the gaps in what he showed me to convince me to trust him_.

"Please, Hermione. I'll only stay a few minutes. I've not seen you for ages. I've missed you… we both missed you. I won't be long." He looked at her with the big pleading eyes that had persuaded her so many times to help with his schoolwork, or to go against her better judgement and accompany him on some new hair-raising adventure. She couldn't refuse that look.

"Fine," she sighed, stepping through the wards and pulling him through with a tug on his arm. "I'll call Tiggy for some food then, I've not eaten for ages." _And at least it's something to do before I can get him to leave_. The comfort of Snape's bed was almost a tangible temptation for her, and she glanced longingly at the stairway that led up to his chambers.

"Sure, sounds good," Harry replied absently, making his way across the room to where the pensieve still shone brightly.

"Tiggy," she called, not taking her eyes off Harry. The elf popped into view beside her.

"Tiggy is here, what can she do for Miss?"

Hermione glanced down, and was surprised to see that Tiggy was sporting a bandage around her head, as well as a cut down one side of her face and bruises all down her arms. Despite that the elf was grinning happily up at her.

"What happened? Are you ok?" she asked concernedly.

"Tiggy is wondrous happy, all the elves are glad to help stop the bad wizards who come to Hogwarts."

"Was anyone hurt?" Hermione could remember how at one point she'd seen the house elves throw themselves into the battle against Voldemort's forces.

The elf's eyes grew misty. "There are many bangs and scrapses, but no more than punishment for disobeying masters. Miss is so kind to think of us."

"Do you need any help to heal…?"

"No, no, we is all happy to help, no need to heal. But we is very worried about Master…" She moved closer to Hermione and whispered conspiratorially. "Master is here, but not here. Castle can feel him, but we cannot find him to get orders." Tears began to well in her eyes. "We has no one to tell us our orders!"

_Still here…_ she thought for a moment, patting Tiggy's shoulder comfortingly. It makes sense really. When she'd used the time-turner she'd always been able to see time passing around her. She wondered if Snape was aware of his surroundings as he moved forwards. In a way it meant he was actually still there, in his bedroom, just passing through each moment too quickly to be seen. The thought soothed her somehow.

"It's ok, Tiggy. The headmaster's gone ahead so we can help him get better. For now, you all need to ask Professor McGonagall what to do, as she is in charge of the castle."

Her words seemed to calm the elf, and she smiled up through her tears. "Tiggy will tell everyone, we will be so happy to serve until sir returns. But what can Tiggy do to help Miss?"

"Are the kitchens still working? Can you bring anything for us to eat?"

"Oh yes, Miss. We's have already fixed everything and have been making food to go to the Great Hall all day. What would Miss like?"

"Anything is fine, thank you Tiggy."

"Tiggy is always happy to serve Miss." She disappeared with a pop and a moment later plates appeared on Snape's desk.

"Harry," Hermione called softly, moving over to where he was gazing silently down into the blue shimmering light of the pensieve. "Food's here, are you coming?"

He seemed not to hear her as he reached out to trace a finger around the rim of the bowl, careful not to touch the swirling memories within.

"Harry…?" she repeated. "What's the…"

"He did so much for us… for me, and we treated him so awfully. Now… It all seems so obvious, all those times he saved us. I can't believe we never guessed."

"He needed us to hate him, Harry, or he would never have lasted long spying on Dumbledore." She rubbed his back gently.

"It must have been really terrifying when they took you. Did Snape tell you straight away that he was really on our side?"

"Yes Harry, he explained everything straight away." She wasn't ready to tell him any more about the removal of her memories just yet, it could wait until they were all together, as she couldn't face telling it more than once.

"…Everything?" Harry whispered. "Did he tell you about my mother then? I saw her in his memories, and I thought I wouldn't get a chance to find out any more. Did he say anything to you?" He looked up at her expectantly.

She frowned at him. "No, he never said anything… I didn't even realise he knew her." Her stomach suddenly felt tight. "What did you see? Why was she important enough to show you his memories of her?"

Harry expression was strangely sad as he replied. "He did it all for her, you know. He protected me all this time because of her."

Hermione felt sick. "What do you mean?"

"All this time, he loved her, Hermione." He smiled as her as if the information wasn't breaking her heart as he spoke. "He switched sides when Voldemort killed my mother, and protected me all this time because of her… because he loved her."


	64. Chapter 64

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Sorry about the slow posting, I'm on holiday with terrible wifi. I've just posted a new story as well. SSHG again possibly a one shot, maybe more.

* * *

She'd managed to persuade Harry that nothing was wrong, although she wasn't sure how she'd managed to keep her composure as they sat and ate. She'd wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere and let out the tears that were building. Finally he left, and in her despondent stupor Hermione barely noticed his concerned words and his continued uneasiness at leaving her alone. Her replies were automatic, but eventually he seemed satisfied and suddenly she found herself alone in the darkening office, staring at the blue shimmering light of the pensieve.

Should she look? Did she really want to see the confirmation that he loved another person, had loved her enough that even after nearly twenty years just the memory of her dictated the way he lived his life. She couldn't compete with that. She wished it wasn't true, but she had no reason to doubt what Harry had said. Still, a small sadistic part of her wanted to see for herself, to flay her already fragile emotions even further.

She hovered over the shallow basin for long minutes, wracked with indecision. _I need to see, to know for myself. Whatever I see, I'll still find a way to save him, I owe it to him to do so, but if there's no chance for us, I need to know now. I can't spend the next two years waiting and hoping. I have to know…_ Then, her mind made up, she lowered her face to the liquid and was pulled in.

The first few memories of Snape as a young boy made her heart ache. The obvious neglect of his parents, the misery of his formative years were unexpected, although they explained a lot about the man he'd become, holding everyone at arm's length and sneering at any hint of sentiment. Her blood began to boil upon seeing the way the marauders had treated him, and how Lily had abandoned him so easily. She suddenly recalled the time that Harry had come back from his last Occlumency lesson with Snape, ashen faced and closed mouthed about what had happened. Had he learned something about the parents that he had always looked up to and venerated that he hadn't liked.

The memories moved on, and now Snape was a young man, and she learned the truth of his defection, heard him begging Dumbledore to save Lily, and after, his pain and remorse at her death. The wrenching feeling in her chest as she watched him cradle the dead woman's body in his arms turned to anger as Dumbledore manipulated the grieving man into promising to protect the boy who carried her green eyes. _No wonder Snape hated Harry all this time, he looks so like his father, who bullied and taunted him for so many years then married the woman he loves._

Snape was older now, and Hermione watched with disgust as Dumbledore continued to manipulate him into doing his dirty work, before finally persuading Snape to kill him when the time arose. There was no further mention of Lily as the memories shifted through her later years at Hogwarts, and she began to hope that Harry had exaggerated or misunderstood Snape's feelings. Surely after so long he was merely doing what was right, rather than putting himself at risk over the memory of a girl long dead. Perhaps she did have a chance.

The next scene was clearly set some time not long before the end of her sixth year, and Hermione watched breathlessly as Dumbledore revealed the secret of Harry's scar to a stunned Snape. She watched as the expression on his face changed from shock to anger as he realised just what he had been protecting Harry for. Hermione understood the significance of the silvery doe that materialised out of Snape's wand to bound around the office even before Dumbledore spoke _her_ name. _Lily... it was always about Lily..._

But it was the longing in his eyes as he watched it disappear through the window that broke the last remnants of hope that she'd been clinging on to. The mist swirled around her one last time, but she barely noticed the brief glimpse of Snape lifting his hand to her own cheek, before pressing his lips to her forehead. She just wanted it all to be over, she didn't wantto see any more. A moment later she got her wish as the memories ended. She pulled her face from the silvery liquid and stood staring down at it for a minute, willing herself not to cry, before she leadenly trudged up to Snape's bedroom, and, carefully skirting the area where he had disappeared, climbed on the bed. Despite her weariness, it was a long time before she fell asleep.

The Hermione that emerged from the Headmaster's office the following day was quiet but determined and she quickly set about helping with the clean-up of the castle. The higher you climbed in the castle the less evidence you could find of the battle and some rooms and corridors were wholly untouched. The lower parts were the more heavily damaged, most particularly in the area around the Great Hall and the courtyard outside the main doors.

Hermione was surprised at how many people had stayed to help. The Great Hall had been cleared of rubble although the repairs had barely been started, although the tables that the students usually used had been set up for people to eat. They were filled with Order members, students and many others that Hermione faintly recognised from the battle. Despite the number of people in the hall, there were very few talking, and the few conversations that she could hear were quiet and subdued. The top table was also surrounded by people, all of whom seemed to be taking instructions from McGonagall, who was gesturing at what Hermione could only assume was a map of the castle.

Hermione stood and took in the scene from the small doorway near the dais that was usually used only by the staff. People seemed to be disappearing out of the main doors in small groups, presumably under orders to repair certain parts of the castle. She wasn't in any mood to speak to anyone, let alone spend time working side by side with another all day, so before she was noticed she slipped away quietly.

It was almost a week before McGonagall was able to corner her for the promised chat, and in the meantime she drifted around the castle, doing whatever she felt was needed. She buried her emotions as deeply as possible, suppressing them beneath thoughts of the next job that needed doing, working late into the night before retiring to the headmaster's rooms, and getting up early when she could no longer stand lying in bed unable to sleep. And if she never graced any of the castle's other occupants with a smile, or if she referred to spend most of her time in solitude, either repairing the more isolated areas of the castle, or brewing simple potions for the infirmary in the solitude of the untouched potion's classroom, no one questioned it. For as the celebrations over Voldemort's demise had died down, grim reality had set in. It wasn't just the castle that was in need of repair, but the wider wizarding community in Britain that was in shambles.

All the faces that she passed in the hallway were tired, their eyes either wary or hollow. The other students seemed to be faring particularly badly and were, like Hermione, quiet and devoid of the general merriment you would expect to find amongst groups of teenagers. They had all seen too much. Many people had stayed to help because they had nowhere else to go, or perhaps because they had loved ones who were still recovering in the infirmary. Others stayed only to keep themselves busy, and to stave off returning to empty homes. But after a few days even Hermione noticed that the numbers in the castle were steadily dwindling, despite the fact that the repairs were still barely begun.

She'd spent a small amount of time with Harry and Ron, and had listened to their stories of what had happened after she had been captured, although neither of them had pressed her to talk about her own experiences. Harry had obviously said something to Ron, and she could tell from the shared looks that she was clearly not meant to notice, that they were both worried about her. She was grateful for their concern, but what she wanted most was to be left alone.

Eventually even Harry and Ron had left the castle, both returning to stay at the Burrow with the rest of the Weaselys. Hermione had been invited to stay, but had been unwilling to go. She knew there was still some discussion over where Fred was to be buried, but she had agreed to attend the funeral as soon as it was arranged. Quite a few relatives of those that had died had decided to take the offer of having them buried at Hogwarts, close to where Dumbledore was already interred. The funerals had started two days after the battle.

Hermione had only attended when it was someone she had known particularly well, but had stood well back from the rest of the mourners, hidden from the view of most people among the trees, her eyes dry. She'd not even shed a tear when Tonks and Remus had been buried side by side, although she'd stayed long after everyone else had gone, crippled with grief. Eventually the cold and damp had roused her and she'd made her way back into castle under the cover of darkness.

She'd almost made it back to the phoenix statue when she heard her voice being called. A cold feeling washed through her. She really wasn't ready to speak to anyone just yet, but she knew there would be no more putting off the older witch that was approaching her from the other end of the corridor. McGonagall had been busy organising the volunteers, but now that many of them were leaving and the infirmary was starting to empty she'd obviously had time enough to remember their planned meeting.

Before she knew it she was being swept along the halls towards McGonagall's rooms, and within minutes she was settled into an armchair on one side of a warm fire with a cup of tea in her hands. McGonagall took a sip from her own cup before sighing and leaning back in her chair, her eyes closing for a moment. She suddenly looked old and tired to Hermione. It wasn't just the last week that taken its toll on her, the whole year must have been immensely difficult for her, especially considering how protective she usually was over her students. For her to have stood by while the student's had been mistreated must have been more than she could bear.

Suddenly McGonagall's eyes flicked open and landed on Hermione. They were as sharp as ever, and Hermione could tell she would find it hard to pull the wool over the old witch's eyes. She might be ready to talk yet, but that wasn't going to stop McGonagall from finding out everything she wanted to know. She swallowed nervously and took a sip of her own tea to give her an excuse to look away for a second.

"Now, girl. Tell me everything you wouldn't say in front of Potter. You can start with what happened after I found you in his office. And don't miss anything out…"

* * *

 

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

Sorry for the long wait everyone. It's been a busy few weeks and this chapter wasn't easy.

LightningBugInSummer Sorry I took so long to give you the next bit. It is almost twice the length of a normal chapter though!

Fantomette34 Hermione has got all her memories, she's just not thinking straight.

Petite Mule I'm glad you're not too upset. I just couldn't help another bit of angst.

fayth03 I'm glad you're enjoying it!

* * *

Hermione found herself surprised by the older witch's understanding. She'd found it easier to open up than she'd believe possible, and of course it hadn't taken long for her to pull the whole story from her, and Hermione had even gone so far as to confess in a broken whisper what she'd seen in his memories. McGonagall hadn't been particularly shocked to hear of Snape's feelings for Lily, as she'd witnessed the way he had clung to her during their first few years at Hogwarts before their friendship turned sour, but she was appalled that he'd continued to love her for so long. Not for the sentiment, but that he'd suffered for so long, and that Dumbledore had taken advantage of him in such a way.

McGonagall seemed unsurprised that Snape had barely touched her since the day she'd discovered her in the head's office, but Hermione could see the concern in her eyes as she professed her continuing feelings for him, as well as her confusion about how Snape felt about her. For some reason, Hermione found herself unable to tell McGonagall about what had happened when she'd gone back in time during the battle, although she did confess to telling Snape she loved him, just before he'd disappeared into the future.

"And do you still feel this way?"

Hermione looked down at her hands which she was twisting nervously in her lap. "Yes, of course… I mean, I…"

"You don't sound like you're all that sure, my dear. What's the matter?"

She shrugged. "I love him, at least… that's what it feels like. Why shouldn't I love him?" she demanded, looking up at the other woman. "He saved me, risked his life for me several times. He did nothing to me that I didn't demand of him, and I'm sure the whole thing was far worse for him than it was for me. At least before I could hate him for what he did to me, at first anyway. But I forced him into doing all those awful things, and he hated every moment of it. And later, he was caring and kind when he didn't need to be, even when it caused problems for him with V… Voldemort. And when he…" She paused and blushed, looking away again.

"...When he what?" McGonagall asked gently, leaning forward slightly, resting the hand that held her teacup on one arm of the chair.

Hermione closed her eyes, embarrassed. "Voldemort wanted to know why he wasn't taking advantage of me more, why he didn't choose to degrade me and use me for his own pleasure. He risked so much, was tortured even, so that I didn't have to suffer more." She finally opened her eyes to look at McGonagall, who was watching her silently, waiting for her to continue in her own time.

"The whole time I was confused about how I felt about him. I didn't understand how I could feel something for someone who I thought at the time was my enemy. When I got all my memories back it all made sense, like my subconscious had been telling me all along how I felt, even when the memories were gone. I got to spend time with him when I knew what he really was, when he didn't have to pretend to be something he wasn't. I thought I saw the real him, and I thought… I thought he felt the same about me. But he doesn't, does he? It was all just an act. And this last week I've been starting to think, and I wonder…" she trailed off.

McGonagall reached across to squeeze her hand gently. "What do you wonder?"

Hermione looked down to where their hands were joined, blinking furiously as she tried to stop the tears coming to her eyes. "I wonder if any of it was real. Severus said, more than once, that I only feel this way because he manipulated me into doing so. What if he was right? What if I only think I love him because of everything that happened?" She pulled away from McGonagall and buried her head in her hands. "I even gave him tips on what to do and say. No wonder I fell for it."

"I can't tell you what Severus was thinking, or the reasons behind most of his actions, but I can tell you that he… that he… cared for you."

Hermione looked up. "He told you that, or are you just guessing?"

"I guessed, but he did admit to it when I confronted him about what he was doing with you. Beyond that you will have to wait and speak to him yourself."

"But there's no guarantee we'll be able to figure out what was wrong with his anti-venin. In any case I won't have the chance to speak to him until two years' time, even if we are successful! And what am I supposed to do until then?" Her voice had grown shrill.

"You are welcome to stay in the castle. The governors called an emergency meeting a few days ago and have made my position as headmistress permanent."

"But what about…"

"…Severus? The governors are unaware that he is still headmaster, and that I am unable to fully command the castle until he returns and either resigns, or is reinstated. We are not in a position yet where it is wise for the wider population to know he has survived. Kinglsey is poised to become Minister, although it is likely he will only stay in the position until all this mess is sorted. I have already spoken to him, and he has agreed that he will make sure Severus's name is cleared, legally at any rate. It is hard to gauge what public opinion will be, as he has never been a popular man, and this last year will only serve to cement most people's dislike of him. We can only hope people will realise just what he's done to protect them…"

McGonagall paused for a moment, lost in thought, before continuing. "In any case, I will require your help to retrieve several things from the office that I will need to fulfil my duties. I cannot even get the house-elves to get anything for me. As far as they're concerned, Severus is still master of this castle and they won't disobey any of his direct orders, most particularly any of those that involve his rooms. He seems to have been quite through in making sure there was no way around his instructions, although I've had no problems with getting them to cook and clean whenever I've asked them."

She sighed heavily. "I will have to set up another set of chambers and an office elsewhere, as I need to vacate mine for the new transfiguration teacher, whoever that will be.

Hermione said nothing in reply, although an idea had suddenly come to her regarding the clearing of Snape's name. She needed to speak to Harry.

"Getting back to the point," McGonagall continued. "I will be offering any student who wishes to do so the chance to sit their newts. Hopefully I can arrange an early sitting for those students who attended lessons over the last year, and those who didn't can resit the whole year. If you so wished I imagine you would be more than capable of taking the earlier exams."

The offer came as a complete surprise for Hermione, but she knew immediately she wanted to take the opportunity to gain her newts. If she was honest with herself it was to have something to occupy herself with, and a reason to stay in the castle as long as possible, more than a desire to complete her schooling. But taking the exams early would mean having to leave the castle in only a few months. She affected a worried look, hoping she could convince her teacher to let her stay for longer.

"I'd love to come back, but I don't think I could possibly sit my newts before next June. I've only covered the basic texts for seventh year, and I've done no practical work since last year. I'll need to review everything from last year before I can even start thinking about this year's work…"

McGonagall smiled knowingly at her. "I doubt that there is any question on any of the newts that you don't already know. You'll pass them all with flying colours I'm sure."

"But…"

"After you've completed your newts I assume you may wish to stay in the castle. I thought perhaps I could inform the Ministry I have taken you on as my assistant. I think considering the events of the last year and the state of the castle there would be more than enough reason for me to justify having someone to help me. You would of course have plenty of time to conduct your own… research. You might even consider studying for a mastery in one subject or another. I'm sure any of the Professors would be happy to assist you with whichever subject you chose. You would, of course, have an unlimited pass to the Restricted Section, on the condition that you inform Madam Pince before you read any book you are unfamiliar with. Would all this be acceptable to you?"

Hermione realised her mouth was hanging open and shut it with an audible click. "Are you ki…? I mean, yes, yes I'd love to, of course."

"McGonagall smiled tiredly. "I'm glad. I shall make arrangements for rooms, we can discuss exactly what will happen after you NEWTS another time, so you can have a chance to think about what you might like to do."

"I'd like to stay in Snape's rooms while I'm here? I'm not sure I'd be able to cope with the dorms… too many people, and not enough locks." She grimaced at the thought. "No one else can get in there anyway."

"That is not possible. You cannot stay in those rooms."

_No… I want to be near him…_ "But I will need to use his lab and his library to figure out what went wrong with the antivenin. I might as well stay in his rooms anyway so I can work on that in the evenings.

"Miss Granger… Hermione… Under the circumstances I think it best if we find you some other rooms in the castle. We can't have people realising you can enter Severus's office while I am barred." She lifted a hand to stop Hermione as she opened her mouth object. "It would create too many problems with the Board of Governors, and in any case, we don't want anyone suspecting that he is still alive, for the moment at least."

"I could sneak in under a disillusionment charm, or even Harry's clock. He would lend it to me, I'm sure. I don't think I could cope with staying with the others, I want to be with _him_. And I will need to use his lab and his library to figure out what went wrong with the antivenin. So I might as well stay in his rooms anyway so I work on that in the evenings."

McGonagall sighed defeatedly. "You can use his rooms to research and brew, but only until the start of term, and you will have a room elsewhere that you _will_ sleep in. If you haven't finished before lessons start you will have to move your work elsewhere. The castle will be quiet enough until the students come back, in that area at least as there is no work that needs doing. You must, however, stay hidden, either with a charm or with Potter's cloak if he will let you borrow it, and not let anyone see you as you go in and out. We're lucky no one besides you, him and Mr Weasley seem to know where you've been staying. It must stay that way."

Hermione said nothing, the disappointment curdling in her stomach unpleasantly.

"And while I'm on the subject of your friends, I must insist that before you start your research, you take a few days to visit the Burrow. You need to get away from the castle and take a few days to relax and rest."

"I don't think…"

McGonagall's expression was firm. "If you want to have access to Severus's rooms you will do this first. It is not good for you to be shut away from everyone. I'm not the only one who is worried about you. Potter may know part of your story, but not all, and he and the rest of your friends are concerned about your behaviour. You are not the only one who has been through a difficult time. Your friends need you just as much as you need them right now."

As McGonagall spoke Hermione could feel shame prickling at her for neglecting her friends. Harry had _died_ and come back to life somehow, and she hadn't even bothered to get the whole story. The busyness of The Burrow was a scary prospect, however. Maybe Harry and Ron could come to her if she could find the right excuse to stay in the castle.

"But Severus…"

"…can wait. His return is not for another two years, and there is plenty of time to prepare. Those boys need you now."

Hermione slumped back in the chair defeated. She knew McGonagall wouldn't change her mind.

"Fine, I'll go today." That way I can get back here all the faster. "Was there anything else you wanted to speak to me about?"

"There is one more thing." McGonagall paused and looked across at Hermione with a serious expression. "I am concerned about how recent events have affected everyone, not just yourself but staff and other students too. Many of the older students fought in the battle, and have witnessed countless horrors. And this last year at Hogwarts hasn't been a picnic for anyone either, not with those two creatures that tried to pass themselves off as professors in charge of discipline.

"I have been making enquiries, and I plan to hire what I understand muggles call a… a psychiatrist... to supplement Poppy's excellent care. The wizarding world may not have felt the need for such a profession in the past, but I have been made aware of a few such doctors who are aware of our world, either because they are married to a witch or wizard, or because they are squibs themselves. Hopefully I can convince one of them to take up residence in the castle for the coming year, and ask them to start with the older students before working their way through the lower years."

Hermione was surprised McGonagall even knew what a psychiatrist was. "That sounds like a good idea. I can imagine there will be a lot of people who could benefit."

McGonagall could clearly see her confusion. "I do know more than most about the muggle world, although the last real contact I had with it was when my father died." She smiled wryly at Hermione's shocked face. "I guess there are very few nowadays who remember that I am a half-blood. I made my choice to leave that part of my heritage behind a long time ago. And it certainly wasn't a status I was likely to advertise this past year.

Her face was sad for a moment, and her thoughts seemed far away. Hermione took another sip of her tea as the silence stretched on. With a small shake of her head McGonagall returned to the conversation.

"Anyway, I was hoping to hire someone before the school reopens, as there are a few people who I am particularly worried about, and who I think need to speak to someone sooner rather than later. Pomona has been acting rather strangely, wandering the castle at all hours, Rolanda's been flying off the handle at the slightest provocation, and Irma doesn't seem to be talking to anyone except her books." Her eyes flicked up at Hermione. "And then there's you…"

"Me? What do you mean?"

McGonagall sighed quietly and set her teacup down on a table to one side of her chair. "Hermione, you have been involved in the fight against Voldemort for almost half your life, you've been cursed, and tortured, you've fought and seen death. You spent nine months on the run for your life from some of the vilest people the wizarding world has ever produced. And then there are the past two months to consider."

"I don't think I need…"

"Everyone in this castle will be spending time with whoever I hire, including myself. I will not take no for an answer on this. I will drag you to the appointments myself if you refuse as I have no desire to see the most brilliant mind I have seen pass through Hogwarts in all my years here go to waste, just because you were unlucky enough to have to live through a war before you even finished your schooling."

McGonagall's voice had risen at the end, her Scottish brogue coming through even stronger than usual. Hermione opened her mouth to refuse again, but at the look on her teacher's face she snapped it shut again. She knew she wouldn't be able to change her mind on this. _I'll just be careful with what I say to the psychiatrist and hopefully she won't need to see me a second time._

When she nodded in acquiescence some of the tightness left McGonagall's face, and she leant back in her chair before picking up her empty cup again. She gestured to Hermione's own cup.

"More tea?"

 


	65. Chapter 65

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Hermione dug her fingers into her palms into a bid to stop her hands from shaking. It didn't help. She tried to act nonchalant as she strode down the hall besides Minerva and Sarah the psychiatrist that Minerva had hired two years previously, but from the concerned looks she was getting she could assume she wasn't convincing anyone. It had been months since she'd been in Snape's rooms, the last time to get the final portrait to take to Minerva's office. The removal of the past Head's from the walls had been extremely difficult, and they'd had to let Flitwick in on the secret, in order that he could help Hermione find a charm that would help get the frames off the walls.

Only Dumbledore's portrait had been left in the office. The same charms that had worked on the rest of the portraits had had no effect on his, and both Dumbledore and Minerva had insisted that she stop trying. The excuse that Dumbledore wanted to oversee the study in the absence of its rightful owner had never quite rung true with Hermione, and the blank expression on Minerva's face when questioned told her there was another reason the old headmaster's portrait had stayed. She'd seen Dumbledore sharing another portrait's space in Minerva's new office so it wasn't like he didn't have access to the rest of the castle anyway.

Hermione had spent as much time as possible during the summer months holed up in Snape's rooms, supposedly working on the potion and studying, but in reality sulking and moping just as much. She had tried using arithmancy to figure out what was wrong, but there seemed to be something wrong with her equations, something missing. She'd poured over Snape's library for any reference to either anti-venins or potion development andread his potion's journal so many times she could probably transcribe it without looking. She'd even tried remaking the potion, but couldn't see what the problem with the potion was.

Most days Minerva had had to send Tiggy in to retrieve her for the night, and it seemed that the elf had taken it upon herself to look after her and make sure she ate enough. Hermione was either so absorbed with research or with wallowing in self-pity that she would have forgotten to feed herself. Minerva's insistence that she leave the headmaster's rooms each evening irritated her enough that she wouldn't have listened if the older witch had been complaining about her eating habits, but she was unable to refuse the sad, pleading face of the little elf as she wrung her hands in dismay over Hermione's lack of appetite.

When it had come time for the students to return to the school, Minerva had reminded Hermione to pack up and move her research in the dungeon, where the older witch had arranged for Slughorn to give her space and to watch over her. Hermione had spent most of the month that followed revising for her NEWTs, but had spent some time each day trying to work out what was wrong with the potion and reading through the notebook that she carried everywhere with her.

At first she had resented the way Slughorn had hovered over her, not knowing the story behind what she was doing, but as always on the prowl for something that would bring him money or prestige. When, after a few weeks after she'd completed and aced her NEWTs she still had no progress to show, she'd reluctantly consented to let him have a look at the potion, although she had convinced Slughorn that it was merely for academic purposes. She was sure he didn't believe her, but for some reason had decided to help her anyway.

It hadn't taken Slughorn long to realise what she hadn't had the experience or knowledge to see, that in actual fact the recipe for the anti-venin was correct. There had been nothing wrong with her arithmancy or brewing, so the potion's professor was convinced that the creator had made an error while brewing it himself. And when she'd thought about it, Hermione had been able to recall many days in which Snape had toiled over the unknown potion as she worked on the opposite side of the bench. She'd felt his eyes on her many times, and noted the tremor in his hands on more than one occasion, but had never had the courage to ask what the problem was. Had he made a mistake because he had been distracted by her?

Together Slughorn and she had recreated the potion and tested it successfully on a mixture of Hermione's blood and Nagini's venom that she'd brought down from Snape's lab. The next step had been to work out what Snape had done wrong and how to counter it. Hermione had almost wept in frustration when she'd recalled how she'd chucked away the rest of Snape's anti-venin that was left in his lab in a fit of pique, a couple of days after the battle. She'd had to return to the shack to search for the phial that had contained the anti-venom she'd given to him. Luckily, upon learning of Snape's 'death' on the day of the battle, Minerva had sealed the Shack with strong wards soon after the fighting had ended to prevent anyone from defiling his body. She'd then promptly forgotten all about it once she had learned of Snape's possible survival and removal to the castle.

The shack had therefore been untouched since Hermione had left it months ago, and she'd easily found the phial. It had contained just enough remnants of the potion for the two of them to test. Hermione had been close to coming unhinged when the results showed that the potion was perfect, and Slughorn had been perplexed by how badly she was affected. He'd been completely in the dark as to the purpose of what Hermione was trying to achieve, although he had been persuaded to help by the prospect of having one third of the Golden Trio, the highest achieving student in a hundred years under his thumb, and the prestige of tutoring her for a mastery in potions.

Hermione had never previously considered potions as a possible career, but she'd been more than willing to suck up to Slughorn to get what she wanted. She'd found she'd acquired a new pleasure in the subject, although it may have had something to do with the memory of Snape working quietly across the bench from her, the feel of his eyes on her as she brewed, or the way he had gently stroked her hair as she read a book at his feet. She could almost feel his presence beside her in the dungeon classroom where he had taught for so many years as she worked.

The 'tutoring' Snape had given her in the safety of his chambers had helped her to improve her skills considerably in a short space of time, and she wondered how many students would have been more interested in the subject had Snape taken the same care in teaching them as he had with her. Slughorn, of course, had attributed her skills to his own teaching and took great pride in regaling the rest of the staff and anyone in earshot with stories of his talented 'apprentice' and his own expertise.

While his posturing had driven Hermione half mad, she could at least appreciate that she would not have done nearly so well with the potion without his help, so had bitten her tongue and ignored him as best she could. When she'd calmed down from her shock at discovering that the anti-venin she'd given to Snape had been brewed correctly, she'd been glad once again for Slughorn's knowledge. He'd made a throw-away comment about one of the ingredients being liable to react badly with other substances, and immediately she'd been sure that was the problem. She'd given Snape Draught of the Living Death and a healing potion as well as the anti-venin, so there was a good chance there was something about the mix that had prevented Snape from healing properly.

Hermione had done some reading and identified two ingredients in the Draught of the Living Death that may have reacted with those in the anti-venon. Despite her faith in her own abilities, this was too important to get wrong, so while she may have been able to work out what needed to be done by herself, she'd decided to she wanted to continue working with Slughorn to find the answer.

Minerva had needlessly cautioned her against the old potion's professor's propensity to use take advantage of any given situation. Between the two of them they'd had to cajole a reluctant Slughorn into taking an Unbreakable Vow, (which involved a raise and access to some of the rarer plants in the greenhouses) before sitting him down to explain everything.

Not that the secrecy really mattered so much anymore. Snape's survival and jump forward in time still wasn't well known, although the senior staff at Hogwarts had been told after his name had been cleared. One of Kingsley's first acts as Minister had been to 'bow' to the pressures from the public and grant Snape a full pardon and Order of Merlin. Hermione smiled to himself as she remembered the headline, _Severus Snape: The Secret Saviour – (a story in three parts)_. Rita Skeeter had been more than willing to sign the magical contract that Hermione had drawn up in order to get the one and only interview with the golden trio.

Skeeter had actually done a good job of writing Snape's story, and had milked it for all it was worth, getting evidence from others to corroborate what she had learned from the three of them. Not that she truly cared, but it made for a sensational story, and since she was denied the pleasure of writing trash about two of her favourite victims; Harry and Hermione, she'd settled for raking in a huge amount of money for her exclusives instead. Hermione was just glad that they had managed to keep Skeeter from publishing the full facts about Snape's love for Lily. They'd tried to make it seem as if they'd just been childhood friends, but Skeeter had guessed the truth. Luckily the terms of the contract had prevented her from writing anything Hermione told her she couldn't print.

Despite the full story from the trio also being published the press had continued to hound them for more details, and while Hermione had holed up at Hogwarts, Harry and Ron had stayed at The Burrow for the summer, though they came often to see her and to help where they could with the repair of the castle. They had both seemed to heal quickly, and the gaunt look they had both acquired from their year on the run had disappeared after a few weeks of Mrs Weasley's cooking.

The ministry had offered the three of them jobs without them having completed their schooling, but they had all chosen to attend Hogwarts for a final year. Hermione believed that it was more the chance to be together than to complete their schooling that had made the decision for them. Harry hadn't wanted to be parted from Ginny, nor Ron from Luna, who had also returned to the castle.

Hermione had spent the first term so bound up with her work with Slughorn, as well as the completion of her NEWTs, that she had barely spent any time with her friends. Most of the little time she'd allowed herself away from her work had been taken up with sessions with Sarah, the psychologist Minerva had brought in, and in any case, she'd felt like a spare wheel around the two happy couples.

Minerva had been true to her word, and all the staff had been forced to be assessed by Sarah. Flitwick and Minerva, along with one or two other had only had a few sessions, whereas Professor Sprout had continued going for most of the following year, and all the rest of the staff had been somewhere in between. Sarah had also spent time with the returning students. Surprisingly, despite all Luna had been through, she had only needed the one session, although most of the 7th years and those who had come back for the extra year had had weekly sessions that had lasted until they had completed their NEWTs and left the castle.

Hermione had been the only one to visit more than once a week at first, although the frequency had dropped after a few months, once Sarah felt she had dealt with most of the fallout from the year on the run and her time with Snape. The discovery of why Snape's anti-venin hadn't worked and how to fix it had probably helped her move on somewhat as well, and she had stopped pushing herself almost to the point of exhaustion.

Hermione smiled tightly at the woman to the left of her. Sarah had been a godsend really, despite her own reluctance to talk to anyone about what she'd been through. Hermione had been the last one to stop her regular sessions with the psychiatrist, almost a year after the battle. Sarah had been asked to stay for the following year by Minerva, as some of the student's still suffered occasionally, and the acting Headmistress had felt it wise for them to continue to have someone who they could go to.

Sarah had promised Hermione that when the time came for Snape to return that she would accompany her as far as she could, and Hermione had not been surprised to find Minerva at her door as well that morning. They had gone with her to the dungeons to collect the potions that had been brewed in preparation, and Minerva had sent Slughorn off to the infirmary where Madame Pomphrey had set up a special area where Snape could be sequestered away from prying eyes.

Hermione ran her hand across the phials that were hidden in the deep pockets of her robes, as if to check that they were still there. She knew that everything had been well planned and prepared, but she could not stop her nervousness mounting as they approached the gargoyle that guarded the stairway up to the Headmaster's study. Minerva and Sarah stopped at the bottom of the stairs and watched as the gargoyle began to move at the slightest touch from Hermione.

"We won't go up, there's nothing we could do even if you did need help. You'll have to rely on Tiggy until he's moved to the infirmary. We'll wait for you there." Minerva smiled down at Hermione, laying a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. "You'll do just fine my dear."

Overcome with emotions, Hermione found it hard to answer, so instead turned to the other woman.

"Just remember what we discussed. Just get him to the infirmary and take things from there. There's no point worrying about anything else until he's better."

Sarah reached out to squeeze Hermione's arm as she finished speaking, but in typical Hermione fashion she launched herself suddenly at the two surprised women, wrapping an arm around each of them and pulling them in for a hug. "Thank you both so much. I don't know where I'd be without the two of you." She blinked back the tears that threatened to fall before either Minerva or Sarah could see them.

* * *

The two women waited until they heard the door at the top of the stairs click shut before either moved.

"I do worry about her," Minerva began as they turned to head towards the infirmary. "Merlin knows how his return is going to affect her, whether she manages to save him or not. She's done so well in moving past it all." She eyed the younger woman at her side, wishing for once that she would give her some idea of her opinion on Hermione's situation, but Sarah had always refused to discuss any of her sessions with either students or staff. Minerva had no idea even whether Hermione intended to pursue a relationship with Severus, or if she'd dismissed her feelings as a product of the situation they'd been in. The girl had been completely unwilling to discuss it further with her, although Minerva had been glad to see that after a few months she had begun to return to her usual self, although quieter and a little more isolated than before.

"Hermione will be fine. She's got a good head on her shoulders, and we've spent plenty of time discussing this moment and what may happen next. I believe she will have the strength to deal with whatever comes."

"And what about him? So much depends on what he does next." Minerva had looked across at the woman walking alongside her as she spoke, and therefore caught her slight smile.

"From the impression I have got of him, not just from Hermione, but from others too, I have some idea of what to expect. Psychology is of course never an exact art though, and I understand he can be… difficult."

Minerva snorted. "That man takes contrary to a fine art. He seems to take pleasure in doing the exact opposite of whatever anyone expects of him. His connection with Hermione, however… Well I admit I was surprised at first, but it does make sense. They are the two most exceptional students to pass through Hogwarts in all my time here, both extremely focused and dedicated to whatever cause they take up." She peeked sideways to see if she was going to get a response, and found Sarah nodding silently to her words.

Encouraged, she continued, still watching for a reaction as they began to descend toward the infirmary. "Hermione is warm and compassionate, and Severus needs someone who will show him affection. He is just as passionate as she under that cold exterior of his, and from what I saw, genuine in his feelings towards her, despite all that nonsense about Lily Potter. I would not be surprised to find that he used the time-turner because he was scared she didn't feel the same for him. He is so used to rejection and to being solitary. He was never popular at school, nor was he close with anyone except Dumbledore and myself during his years teaching. I understand that his home life was nothing to brag about either."

This time she'd managed to catch a range of emotions that had flashed across Sarah's face, from agreement to surprise. The irony that she was arguing for a relationship between the two was not lost on her, considering how she'd convinced Severus to push her away, but after watching Hermione for the past two years, as well as her own reflections on Severus' behaviour had changed her mind a great deal. She'd been more worried for the girl at the time than aware of his feelings, but the more she had though on it, the surer she was that she had been wrong to force them apart. Severus had deep feelings for Hermione, she was more than convinced, but whether he would act on them was another matter.

"I am not surprised about his background, although no one else has mentioned it to me before. Was Hermione aware of all this?"

"I am not sure how much he told her, though he is not one to be loquacious, particular about his past. If she knows anything, it is more likely the information comes from those memories he left to Potter. I recall her telling me something about them, although she seemed to be more focused on her discovery of his relationship with Lily, such as it was."

"Yes, we have discussed those memories, but only in passing, as I asked her only to discuss what was relevant to her. Hermione's own experiences and feelings are what are important, so we did discuss what she learned of Lily Potter, but nothing else about his past. That is for him to deal with. I was planning to clear some of my schedule in anticipation of some sessions with him once he begins to recover physically. I am sure it would be a good…"

Minerva laughed. "Severus… talk to someone about his feelings? I'd love to see you try and convince him to attend a session with you. It'll be hard enough keeping him in the infirmary long enough for him to fully recover, I can't imagine he would ever be willing to accept counselling, especially from someone he doesn't know well. No offense to you, but he finds it next to impossible to trust anyone. No, a good kick in the backside is what that boy needs… "

* * *

Hermione closed the door gently behind her with a click and paused with her back to the door and looked around the room. The early morning sun trickled gently through the high windows, bathing the room in pale light. Nothing seemed to have changed since the last time she'd been in there. It had the feeling of abandonment, although there was not a speck of dust to be seen thanks to Tiggy. There was a strange silence that wasn't to be found in any other area of the castle, not even in the dead of night, and an unnatural stillness in the air. Hermione had not officially been in his rooms since the beginning of the first term after the battle, though she had snuck in a few times in the following months when she'd been having a particularly bad day and was desperate for the safety of _his_ rooms.

Hesitantly Hermione stepped away from the door and crossed the room towards Snape's chambers, taking no notice of the portrait of Dumbledore that was observing her silently from the wall. She'd had plenty of practice ignoring the portrait over the past two years when visiting Minerva's rooms, as she'd still not forgiven him for his treatment of Snape, and before long he'd got the hint and had begun to return to his frame in the Head's office as soon as Hermione had entered. Minerva had tried a few times to get into the office but the castle had prevented her from dismantling Snape's wards. The fact that she'd felt his wards wash over her as she entered the study gave Hermione hope that Snape hadn't died while hurtling forward through time. _Well, that and the fact that the charm he put on my hands hasn't ended either…_

She knew from experience that the time-turner was not instantaneous, a few hours backward took only a few seconds, so she'd worked out that it had probably taken more than a few hours to travel 2 years. He might still be alive, but what state he would be in was her worry. After discovering the reason why his anti-venin hadn't worked as it should, Slughorn and herself had created a potion to remedy the problem, but what they couldn't guess at was how far his body had gone towards shutting down completely.

One of the ingredients in the Draught of the Living Death that helped to slow the heart down had caused the problem. It had reacted with the active components in the anti-venin that kept the blood from thickening due to Nagini's venom. Hermione could recall all too well the way her own blood had clotted into a brown jelly-like substance when the venom had been introduced to it during testing. She'd almost thrown up at the thought of the pain he must have gone through as his blood turned to sludge in his veins.

The spread of the anti-venin through Snape's body had been halted as his heart and other processes had slowed, as had the movement of his congealing blood. As soon as she'd given him the Wiggenweld potion to revive him his heart had started pushing both around his body again, and that was when the problem had begun. Their tests had shown that the other effects of the venom, such as the immobilization of the nervous system and the breaking down of the body from the inside had been stopped by the anti-venin. However, Snape's blood had thickened, not as much as it would have done without the potion, but enough that it would be slowing down its movement around the body, and Hermione was worried that the lack of oxygen reaching vital organs may have caused permanent damage, or even that he may have had a stroke if a clot had reached his brain.

The plan was therefore to give him the potion she was carrying in her robes the moment he reappeared, and then Tiggy would apparate the two of them immediately to the infirmary where Poppy, who had been informed of Snape's survival about a year ago, could diagnose and treat any further complications. Hermione knew the nurse had already prepared a range of spells and potions in anticipation of whatever difficulties might arise. She had helped to brew a number of them, and between herself, Slughorn, Poppy and Minerva, she was pretty sure they had covered every eventuality. Hermione could only pray he was not beyond treatment.

Hermione was unsure of the exact time that Snape had used the time turner, as she'd been too distracted before waking him up, and crying after to actually take note of the time on the clock. She was only sure that it was sometime in the early morning, as Voldemort death had later been estimated around 6am and it must have been at least an hour before Snape had disappeared. It was now about 6, as Hermione had decided to get there in plenty of time to prepare herself. But as she looked around the silent room she wondered whether even after two ears, if she was ready for what was to come in the next few hours.

As she pushed open the door to his chambers a pang of – something between wistfulness and sorrow – seemed to squeeze the breath from her lungs. The very scent of the rooms seemed unchanged from all those months ago, and she almost fancied she could detect the slightest trace of _him_ in the air – a scent she had been unaware of until she had been deprived of it. The memories that assailed her in that moment affected her far more than she had expected after so long, and it was a few seconds before she could proceed along the hall to Snape's bedroom.

Outside the bedroom door Hermione paused for a moment, her fingers on the handle. This was the scene of some of the most intimate and intense moments she had been through in her time with Snape, and she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. With a deep breath she turned the handle and pushed at the door. The scent of him was stronger in here, and for a moment it was so overpowering that she almost ran. _You can do this Hermione. It's just an empty room._ She stepped inside and looked around. The room had been left as she had first seen it, rather than dark and windowless as it had been when she had believed herself Snape's prisoner. It made her feel slightly less apprehensive than she might have done otherwise.

The last time she'd been in these rooms had been only after a few of her sessions with Sarah, when she was still struggling to come to terms with everything. That had been a particularly bad day, when Sarah had struck a serious nerve while pushing her to admit her feelings for Snape, causing Hermione to lash out in defence. As soon as the session was over she'd legged it to Snape's bedroom and cried herself into an uneasy sleep. It had been the first time Sarah had pushed her to an emotional outburst. Until then she'd still been trying to prove to Sarah, as well as lie to herself that she didn't need to see a psychiatrist.

That had really been the breakthrough Sarah had been waiting for, and it wasn't long before Hermione had learnt the benefits of having someone to pour out her worries and fears to. The past two years hadn't been easy, and not just for her. Hermione was sure that without Sarah, the fallout from the battle amongst the students would have been a lot worse, particularly among her closest friends. Hermione was sure that both Harry and Ginny had been suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome, from what she understood of the condition, and Ron had taken some time to move past his guilt over abandoning the two of them halfway through the year. Unfortunately the after-effects of their fight against Voldemort wasn't the only problem.

It had been a strange world since the downfall of Voldemort. Both Hermione and Harry had spent the whole of their magical lives fighting against the dark wizard in one form or another, and it had affected the way they viewed the entire wizarding world. They had found it far more difficult than their peers or the older generation to settle into normal lives as they had never experienced true peace, and to boot they were also transitioning from childhood into the adult world. The media attention hadn't helped, although she'd been spared most of that, holing herself up in the castle, but Harry of course had borne the brunt of it. Seven years of Rita Skeeter exposes had taught him to be more thick-skinned however, and by and large he had done well at ignoring the ridiculous stories that were still circulating.

In fact it had been a story about Hermione that had caused Harry to lose his cool. Disappointed by the lack of sensational stories about the trio from Rita Skeeter, who was still bound by the terms of the contarct Hermione had forced on her, the Daily Prophet had hired another journalist who seemed to be as bad, if not worse, to dig for gossip concerning them. Someone who had been present in the Room of Requirement just before the battle had blabbed and the rumour that she'd been hiding in Snape's rooms instead of helping her friends defeat Voldemort had been printed.

Luckily, due to Snape's 'revamped image' and her own fame, the article hadn't dared to question their loyalty to the light, but it had come horribly close to the truth of what the two of them had been doing in all that time alone, and had also debated whether the relationship had started when she was a pupil. The details had made Hermione blush when she'd read them. The worst part of it was that the writer had suggested that she was a coward, and that had cut Hermione far deeper than the allusions to her and Snape's sordid sex life and the reason for her good grades at school.

Since Hermione was at Hogwarts and unavailable for comment the press had followed Harry until he had snapped and hexed a couple of reporters. Kingsley had had to get involved, but luckily for Harry he hadn't gone straight into Auror training, instead putting it off for a few years while he played Quidditch at professional level with Ginny.

If he'd been working as an Auror he might have been suspended, but he'd mainly gotten away with it, and had convinced Rita Skeeter, who was fed up of being side-lined by the newer reporter, to write an alternative story explaining how Hermione had been captured and tortured by Voldemort, but that Snape had allowed her to make contact with himself and Ron, and that they'd decided it was better for her to stay where she was and try to figure out where and what the horcruxes were. He had pointed out that by doing so she'd put herself in a position to be tortured further by the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange, and if the war hadn't ended when it had, who knows what else she might have had to endure.

Of the possible relationship between the two, all Harry had said was that there was no possibility that anything could possibly have happened at school, and that he didn't believe that they would have had a time to pursue a relationship under the circumstance, not that it was any business of anyone else's what happened between two consenting adults. Skeeter of course would have much preferred to write trash about Hermione, but her skills at contract writing had only improved since creating the one for Dumbledore's Army, and all Skeeter could do was prevent anyone else taking her position as top gossip writer.

Ron of course had not been available for comment at that time, as he'd been taken on as second place keeper for a Scottish team, and had quickly been recognised as having a good tactical mind. The coach had decided to offer him more money to also work as his assistant, which meant a good month of secret planning sessions in a location abroad during the off season before the rest of the team came out to train, and he'd jumped at the chance as it meant he could save up far quicker to buy a shiny diamond ring he'd had his eye on. Only Luna, Harry and Hermione and his parents knew how to reach him, and by the time he'd reappeared the story had been all but forgotten.

Hermione was overjoyed for Ron, and wholeheartedly approved of his relationship with Luna. The younger witch was good for him, far better than Hermione would have ever been. Harry also was looking forward to marrying Ginny, although the news of their engagement as yet had not been released to the public. Even Neville seemed to be ready to settle down, as were many of Hermione's peer group. It was normal for witches and wizards to marry early, but it meant that Hermione was one of the very few among her friends that wasn't in a relationship, and she did feel lonely at times, especially at large gatherings.

Sarah had tried to convince her to date, even if she wasn't planning on pursuing a relationship with anyone. She'd said it would be a good way to get back out into society and to move on, but both times that Hermione had taken her advice she'd been unable to take it further than a first date. Neither wizard had been able to hold a decent conversation that wasn't either about themselves nor Quidditch. Hermione had spent both nights comparing everything about them to Snape and found them woefully lacking in every department.

After the second disaster Sarah seemed to have given up the subject, accepting that Hermione had at least taken the step of getting out and meeting people, but when Hermione had let slip that Snae had never removed the charm preventing her from masturbating, Sarah had once again tried to persuade her to get out and find someone who could for the job for her. She felt that being unable to move on sexually was holding Hermione back from moving on and taking her life fully back into her own hands.

Hermione had point blank refused. She just couldn't imagine being intimate with anyone else besides Snape, at least not until she knew for sure whether or not he had survived. She wasn't yet ready to accept the fact he might refuse to have anything to do with her, although Sarah had made her face the possibility in their sessions. Intellectually she knew he was probably still in love with Lily and that she would have to move on at some point, but her heart refused to listen unless being shown absolute proof that Snape would never want a relationship with her.

Time had not rid her of her feelings towards Snape, only perhaps dulled the sharp edges, removing the desperate need she had once felt to be in his arms. A deeper understanding of what she had been through and how she had been emotionally manipulated, albeit willingly, had helped her to realise that there were true emotions involved, but that the situation had forced them to develop more quickly than was natural.

Early on in her sessions she'd been terrified that Sarah would try to cure her of her feelings for Snape, or try to tell her that her feelings were wrong and unnatural. It had never happened, however. Sarah had gone through the events that had happened in great detail, and in the process had learned far more of magic than any muggle probably ever had or would. The Statute of Secrecy had only been lifted in her case because her brother was a muggleborn, and she had learned of the wizarding world at a young age. Luckily her brother and his family had gone into hiding, helped by the Order, and had survived the muggleborn purges.

The one thing Sarah had been fascinated with had been the horcrux, especially the psychological effect that splitting the soul may have had. Sarah had been concerned about how she had so easy agreed to leading Harry to his death. Hermione had gone to some lengths to explain the reasons why Harry had needed to face Voldemort, as well as the magical oaths she had taken and the calming and lust potions Snape had given her. While she had been devastated when she realised why he had to die, and even more so when she believed that he actually had, she was far too practical for it to have any lingering effect after everything had come out alright in the end. It had to have happened, and therefore there was no point in her worrying about it.

So lost was she in her reverie that the sudden appearance of a body on the floor in front of her made her squeal in surprise, and for a moment she froze. Then, coming to her senses she grabbed the potion from where it sat beside her on the bed and flew to his side, calling for Tiggy. He had landed awkwardly, chest down with an arm twisted under him, but his face to one side. He was deathly still and for a moment Hermione though she was too late, but then he took a raggedy, wheezing breath and her heart seemed to start beating again.

She was desperate to see him, to reaquaint herself with the way he looked the way he smelt, to run her hands over his face and through his hair. But she knew that she needed to get the potion into him and move him to the infirmary. She would have the chance she needed once he'd been treated and hopefully cured to spend time with him. But now, it was time to act.

Wrenching the cork out of the phial she pulled her wand out of her sleeve. "Ad ventriculum libera," she whispered, with a flick of her wand. The potion disappeared from the phial, and for a moment Hermione thought back to Madame Pomphrey's amazement and pride when she'd found out how she'd used that spell to save Snape two years previous. The witch had been surprised that she'd been capable of performing the charm after only having read about it, although she'd made Hermione practise it a few times on student's who had been admitted to the infirmary with minor injuries, just to make sure that nothing went wrong in this moment.

"Tiggy, now!"

The elf reached out to lay on hand on Snape, and the other on her shoulder, and before she could blink, they disappeared, leaving the bedroom silent once more.

 

 

* * *

I know I've jumped over 2 years in just one chapter, but this story really is long enough, so I only wanted to go over the main points. For those interested in what Hermione and Sarah talked about there will be more in the next chapter, although again, I'm not going into masses of details or I'll never finish.

 


	66. Chapter 66

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

The moment they landed on the bed Hermione was gently tugged away from him. She could already feel the tingle of magic as Snape was rolled onto his back and Madame Pomphrey began to cast her diagnostic spells. Arms wrapped around her waist from both sides and pulled her to one side of the room that had been set up in preparation, to give the nurse the room to work. Hermione tried to pull away, but she was held tight between two bodies, and was forced to watch from a distance.

Symbols and lights began to flash above Snape's body, and Hermione watched intently to try and make out as much as she could. She had some basic idea of what some of them meant, but now wished that she'd taken the time to study the diagnostic spells further. She couldn't tell much beyond the fact that his blood pressure was dangerously high, but falling, presumably as his blood thinned as the potion she'd given him began to work.

"Why are his lips so blue?" Sarah whispered beside her.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the diagnostics to look down at his face. Now that he was on his back she could see clearly what she hadn't noticed before. Sarah was right, his lips were paler than normal, and in fact the whole of his face seemed almost bleached, rather than his normal sallow complexion. Straight away she knew what the problem was, although it was beyond her to voice it. They had discussed the possibility that his thickened blood hadn't been able to carry sufficient oxygen to his organs, and the colour of his skin suggested that they had been correct. _Oh Gods, please don't die._

Everyone watched as Madame Pomphrey cast a few healing spell that Hermione didn't recognise at the prone body on the bed. A couple of phials came zooming through the air as they were summoned, the corks pulling themselves out with a flick of her wrist before the potions inside disappeared. Hermione could only presume the same spell that she'd used a few minutes earlier was being utilised. The empty phials disappeared and Madame Pomphrey turned back to study the diagnostics. A few of them were slowly changing colour or symbols. Hermione could only hope that was a good thing.

The room was silent except for the raspy sound of Snape breathing. Was it getting any easier? It was hard to tell, each breath still seemed so shallow and slow, and she could see no visible change in his colour yet. Hermione had recognised the potions that had been used, both of them for different types of organ failure, one for the kidneys and the other for the liver. Madame Pomphrey made a sound of irritation, and flicked her wand again. Another potion flew through the air towards her.

"Is he…will he be ok?"

"It's too early to tell. You may as well make yourself comfortable," the witch said absently, manipulating the phial as before. "It's going to be a while."

..

Around an hour had passed, but it felt more like a day before the last of the diagnostics stopped blinking red and began to edge towards a orangey yellow colour. From her seat between McGonagall and Sarah, Hermione watched as Madame Pomphrey slumped tiredly into the chair next to the bed. She was pale and shaking, her magic likely close to exhaustion. Both Hermione and McGonagall had offered their help some time back but had been turned down by an irritated nurse who hadn't welcomed the disruption.

McGonagall now stood and summoned a glass of water and some chocolate, and went across to try and revive the nurse somewhat. Hermione gaze returned to Snape. His skin had returned to normal, his cheeks almost flushed compared to their natural colour. The nasty rasping sound had almost gone and his chest was rising and falling steadily now. She wanted to go to him, to touch him, but a strange fear held her back.

Madame Pomphrey seemed to notice her distress. "There's a good chance he'll be alright, child," she said weakly. "It was touch and go there for a while. His organs were in a very bad state, especially his kidneys which had already taken in some of the toxins from the venom. Now I'm mostly worried about his brain, it was starved of oxygen for longer than I would have wished, although his blood wasn't completely stagnant, or he would be dead already. I fear there may be some complications."

Hermione had a good idea of what she meant. Brain damage, memory loss, paralysis even. Sarah tried to wind one arm around her shoulder comfortingly, but Hermione pulled away and stood, moving over to stand over him.

She could barely believe that he was there before her. It didn't seem like two years since she had last seen his face, and it felt strange to see him so unchanged while so much had changed for her. She reached out to touch his cheek gently. He was warmer than she'd though he would be, and so real that she almost couldn't bear it. She ran her hand down his shoulder and down to gently grab the hand that was resting upon the blanket that Madame Pomphrey had covered him with.

Squeezing his fingers gently she was shocked when his hand twitched in hers _. Is he waking up?_

"I think he moved…! Madame Pomphrey!" She bent further over him. "Severus…? Can… can you hear me?"

She could see his eyes moving back and forth slightly under pale lids, but there was no other sign that he was aware of what was going on around him until his fingers tightened around hers again.

Madame Pomphrey, for all her exhaustion was suddenly alert and at his other side, McGonagall next to her with one hand under her elbow. She grabbed the hand next to her and felt for his pulse, observing him closely, an anxious frown on her face.

"He shouldn't be waking up yet, the venom and the healing has taken far too much out of his system, physically and magically. If he didn't wake for a week I wouldn't be worried." She pulled out her wand again, and cast another diagnosis charm, although there was only one set instead of several and the colour seemed washed out and weak compared to the ones she'd cast earlier. She studied them intently, flicking her wand after a few seconds to show something else. "Minerva, you may need to assist me if there's something wrong."

"Of course Poppy, just tell me what you need, " McGonagall replied, pulling her own wand out.

Another movement of the nurse's wand and a different set of colours and runes appeared.

Hermione's eyes were only drawn back down to the man on the bed when her hand was suddenly squeezed tightly and let go again. His eyes were flickering half-open before closing again, and she was aware of slight movements of his body under the blanket.

"Wha…" he mumbled, his fingers clawing at her wrist, before making a few unintelligent moans.

"Speak to him, Miss Granger. Try to keep him calm," said Madame Pomphrey as she continued to try and figured out if there was something wrong.

"You're in the infirmary. You're going to be fine," she said, with false bravado, not liking the way his hand was shaking so hard in hers. A quick glance across at the tired nurse confirmed her notion that something wasn't right.

He shook his head slightly from side to side before he opened his eyes again with a visible effort, moving them from side to side in an attempt to figure out where he was.

"I'm here, Severus… Can you hear me?"

His eyes seemed to focus, and when he realised who was talking to him he looked horrified.

"No…." A look of intense pain crossed his face.

"It's ok, you're safe." She prayed hard she wasn't lying to him.

"You… don't want… leave…" he almost seemed to be pleading with her.

"What do you mean? I didn't leave. I waited for you." His tight grip was starting to hurt, but she clung on still.

"…away... go… away" His whole arm was shaking now, and he turned his head with difficulty away from her, as if in dismissal.

Hermione let go his hand as if stung, but made no move to leave, although her heart seemed to be shrivelling in her chest.

"Madame Pomphrey… his hands… What's wrong?" she whispered.

The nurse glanced down at Snape, and seemed to notice for the first time how he was shaking. "Damn, he's going to fit. I'm going to need help." She cast another diagnostic.

"M…Mi…erv… girl… g…go…" he stuttered, before his eyes rolled back in his head and the shaking turned into full body convulsions.

"He's got a clot in his brain. I've got something that will break it down. Granger, help me to hold him steady. Don't hold him too tight, just enough to stop him hurting himself," the nurse snapped. "Minerva, something between his teeth then you'll have to help me with this potion." Madame Pomphrey turned to grab a phial with her hands before turning back.

Hermione hadn't moved, frozen with shock and disbelief. He didn't want her. After everything…

"Granger…quick girl!"

When Hermione still made no move to help Sarah pushed past her and used her weight to hold Snape at the shoulder and thigh. Madame Pomphrey held his other shoulder while Minerva opened the phial and verbally cast the spell to transfer the potion to Snape's stomach. After a few moments the convulsions lessened.

"Nearly there…" Madame Pomphrey whispered. "The stress… he needs time to heal…"

Hermione couldn't stand to see anymore. She turned and ran, barely aware of the nurse behind her casting one final spell before slumping back into the chair, utterly exhausted.

. . . . .

An hour later Sarah found her at the top of the Astronomy Tower, sitting on the cold stone, eyes fixed on the card she was twirling around in her fingers. She'd not cried a single tear, she'd been unable to. The shock of his dismissal had worn off, however, and instead a cold acceptance had stolen over her.

Sarah came to sit by where she sat with her legs dangling over the long drop where Dumbledore had fallen almost three years before. They sat in silence for a few minutes before she spoke.

"Minerva's forced Poppy to rest while she watches him. Poppy thinks he'll be asleep for maybe a few days or so. She got the tremors to stop completely by putting him in what I understand is a sort of forced coma, though it should wear off when he's ready to wake up. The clot has gone, it was just the stress that was causing the tremors at the end there, and Poppy is sure that as long as he has time to recover and takes it easy once he wakes they shouldn't return."

Hermione heard it all in silence, watching Sarah with dark eyes.

"How are _you_ feeling?"

Hermione had to look away before she could reply. "I… I'd thought… hoped he would at least give me a chance. Her gaze returned to the card in her hands. "I guess nothing's changed for him. I was stupid to get my hopes up at all really," she sighed. The tower was silent again for a few minutes until she spoke again. "I guess I need to decide what I'm going to do next. I need to get out of here, move on from it all. I've been putting it off for two years, but it's time…"

"What about your potion's mastery? Don't you want to finish that?"

Hermione shook her head. "Slughorn is debating whether or not to retire again, and in any case I am not tied to him. If I want to continue I can either follow him, or there are others I could go to to complete my training. That's _if_ I choose to continue. Potions was never my passion. Things only fell out the way they did because of... of everything that happened."

"You're not the sort of person to easily throw away two years of work, Hermione."

She shrugged. "Ever since I discovered the inequality shown to any magical being not a wizard or witch, I dreamed of helping them somehow, working for the Ministry department that deals with their regulation perhaps. But recently I've been thinking about doing something with charms, or perhaps healing. That way I'd not be wasting what I've learned."

"What changed your mind about helping magical creatures? From what you've told me you had a real passion for it."

The card started to twirl again in her fingers. "I've always liked helping people. I guess I just lost the will to fight losing battles. At least if I go into healing people will want my help."

"You're not talking about house elves. You mean Snape?"

The spinning card came to a sudden stop, and Hermione shrugged again. "Perhaps… In any case, it's time to move on." She pushed herself to her feet and hesitated for a moment next to Sarah before holding out the piece of card.

Sarah slowly reached out and took it, looking up at Hermione questiongly. "What…?"

"Would you give it to him… it's his, I took it from his room almost two years ago. I saw him looking at it once. He locked it away next to his bed, but one day when I went to hide in there… the drawer was open." She looked away. "He'll want it back. Would you…?"

Sarah turned the card over. It was jagged along one side where it had been torn, and an image of a beautiful young woman smiled sadly up at her.

"Who is she?" She'd never seen the woman before, although she had her suspicions.

Hermione didn't answer straight away, instead turning away to look out at the lake. She wrapped her hands around the cool metal of the railings and seemed to visibly steel herself.

"Lily…" she breathed. "That's Lily. That's the woman he's loved since they were children. How could I ever compare….?"

Sarah got to her feet and went to stand next to Hermione. "I can't tell you what he's thinking or feeling, but I do know that you shouldn't leave without seeing him again. You need to finish this one way or another, or you'll never be able to let him go." She held the photo out to Hermione. "I won't help you to avoid him. You'll have to give it back yourself."

Hesitantly Hermione took the photo from Sarah's fingers, dropping her gaze to look at the beautiful woman staring back up at her. By the time she looked around again, Sarah had gone.

 


	67. Chapter 67

 

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

She'd put off coming back for two days, and now she was having difficulty stepping into the room where he still lay sleeping. From where she stood by the door, with the photo of Lily clutched in her hand, she could see his chest rising and falling rhythmically underneath the thin blankets, and from what she could see of him he looked far healthier than he had two days previous. His dark hair was fanned out limply across the pillow, his face looking slightly gaunter than before, although his colour was more healthy than it had been.

She longed to sit by him, watch over and care for him, until his eyes opened and he could turn to her and tell her that he hadn't meant what he'd said, that he loved her. She could almost feel his fingers tracing the soft skin on her cheek, her lips, as he had done so long ago. Her whole body still burned for him, tempered by the two years since she had last seen him.

Hermione stamped down on the feelings and pushed away her daydream fiercely. She couldn't afford to wish for things she wouldn't have. Her experiences during the sessions with Sarah had shown her dangerous her feelings could be, and how easily she could have slipped into obsession without help in the first few months after he had run from her.

Sarah had helped her to see that she did indeed have genuine feelings for Snape, but that her utter infatuation with the man had been artificially constructed by his manipulations, and that she had to learn to see past any of the situations with him where she'd believed him to be her captor, and instead concentrate on the times where both of them had been able to express their true feelings.

One particular moment she had found it hard to deal with had been the way Snape had forced her into taking oaths to obey, promising that she would be his, and then rejecting her as soon as he had got what her wanted. At the time this had hit her really hard, her depression making it easy to fall prey to the lure of the dark curses and spells Snape had made her learn. Now she could look back at those weeks and see how close she had been to giving in and becoming dark herself, her own bleak emotions feeding into the spells and making them more powerful, and more alluring.

Hermione could now understand that not only had the use of dark spells affected her long after the battle was finished, but that with the recovery of her own memories, she could see that there was something else that had occurred that she couldn't fathom without hearing Snape's reasoning for the way he had seemed to want her one moment, and then barely be able to speak to her the next. Had Minerva said something to him? She'd certainly told Hermione a relationship with Snape wasn't a great idea.

The older witch had never told her what had been discussed by herself and Snape the day she had discovered Hermione, and she had never asked, although she'd wanted to at times. Whenever the conversation had turned to Snape Minerva had often either changed the subject, her expression almost guilty. Hermione would bite her tongue and usually make an excuse to leave soon after, before returning to the dungeons and throwing herself back into whatever work she'd been doing, trying to forget everything by working herself to exhaustion, something she had done quite often over the past two years, and a trait Sarah had named as dangerous and detrimental to her mental as well as physical health.

One more than one occasion Sarah had needed to drag Hermione away from her work to talk about whatever had caused her to forget eating and sleeping. Sometimes it was a small thing, a memory that had suddenly hit her, like the way she had lashed out at him once, hurting and clawing at him as he had stood there and accepted her censure, believing he deserved it. Or the time she had suddenly got it into her head that perhaps he was just another one of her pet projects, like the house elves, and she had spent almost 36 hours brewing non-stop, wondering whether she was confusing her gratefulness at being rescued and protected with something deeper.

So many of the questions Sarah had asked her had been uncomfortable for her to think about and had brought back more painful recollections, but eventually they had dissected and discussed the months Hermione had spent in Snape's rooms. Looking back again at the few times that she had been in possession of her memories, Hermione had quickly realised that her feelings for him had begun the night when he had taken her virginity. He had been so gentle and tender with him, and yet strangely vulnerable himself.

She had though back over their other interactions during those times, the way Snape had been a completely different person when he hadn't been acting the Death Eater, the way he had comforted her, even when he'd clearly been hurting himself. She'd seen the best of him in those moments, a side of him that he'd kept tightly under wraps for so many years and which even then he'd tried to keep hidden. In hindsight, it had been all too easy to fall for him, and Hermione had almost been relieved to figure out that her attraction to him was built on firmer foundations than deceit and lies.

Now, however, she could almost wish that everything had been a lie, that Sarah had been able to 'cure' her of her feelings for Snape. To have waited for two years, to have worked so hard to ensure his survival, and then not to be given a moment's chance. But life wasn't fair, and it certainly rarely worked out the way you had planned. She was just going to have to suck it up and move on. _Out of sight, out of mind,_ she thought. _Hopefully that has some truth in it._

She realised suddenly that she'd unintentionally crossed the room to stand at his side. Now was her chance to leave the photo of Lily on the table by his bed for when he woke up, but she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from his face. From here she could see the slight movement of his lips as he breathed, and wondered if she dare give him one last kiss before she left. Slowly she started to lean over his still body.

Without warning Snape moved slightly, his head shifting to one side as a low sound issued from his throat. The movement made her jump, and anxious that he was on the verge of waking, she braced away as quickly and as quietly as she could manage, and fled the room once more, the photo still help tightly in her hand. She should have left it by his bed, she knew, and she tried to ignore the little voice in her head saying that the only reason she had for taking it with her was that she was not ready to give up on him, however much she tried to tell herself otherwise.

_No_ , she thought. _It's time to stop feeling sorry for myself, and forget about him. You're stronger than this, Granger. You just need to push any feelings you have for him away, until you no longer feel them._

* * *

Minerva watched the unusually quiet girl over the top of her teacup. She was concerned about her, as was Sarah, who had asked Minerva to keep an eye on her now that she was only spending one day a week in the castle, as the number of people coming to her for help had begun to peter out a while ago.

The acting Headmistress had invited Hermione to take tea with her to judge for herself how the girl was doing, but had been dismayed when Hermione had announced her plans to leave Hogwarts. She had secretly hoped the girl would complete her mastery in potions, so that she could replace Horace when he left. The indolent wizard, while an exceptional potioneer, was not the most competent of teachers, and grew lazier by the day. Minerva know Hermione had been helping many of the students, and the girl showed great promise at potions herself, although it was never the branch of magic Minerva had guessed she would go into.

She had hoped to secure both Horace and Hermione for two more years, enough for the latter to become a Master, and she prayed that Severus would be healthy enough, as well as willing, to take the Head's position off her hands. She knew she had done a good job getting the school back up and running, but she missed teaching, and longed to be back in the classroom. Her replacement, she knew, was thinking about leaving, so it would all have worked out perfectly. But now, Hermione was threatening to upset her carefully thought out plans by leaving, and without her, she knew she had no chance of retaining Horace.

"Is there no way I can convince you to reconsider? Horace hasn't yet decided whether he's leaving, and it's a waste of the last two years hard work if you give up your mastery now."

"I'm sorry, Minerva, but I've decided. In training to be a healer I will not be wasting my work. I have already decided to specialise in the use and creation of healing potions, and I have already had an offer from someone at St Mungo's who is willing to sponsor me to become a Master." She paused for a second. "Actually, word seems to have got out that I'm looking to move from Hogwarts, and I've had letters from almost all the different departments at St Mungo's, as well as a few from the Ministry. I've made up my mind though, and that's not going to change. " Despite her words, Minerva could still see a tremor of doubt in her expression.

"And what of Severus?" She was impressed, the girl had barely flinched at the mention of his name.

"What of him?" she said defensively.

"Don't' play coy with me, girl. You are planning to just walk away from him? After everything that the two of you went through? We both know what your feelings are towards him, and Merlin knows he will need as much support as he can get over the next few weeks. We've all had two years to move on, but for him everything has only just ended. Is it not worth staying to see what come of it once he has had time to settle in a bit?

"Whatever my feelings for him might have been, they are no longer relevant. In any case, I think my being here may make it more difficult for him. It was clear enough at the time that he hated every moment of what he had to do to me, and I would only be a reminder of that. It is far better that I should leave and that we both move on with our lives."

Minerva was silent for a moment as she tried to think of the best way to respond. Hermione hadn't been back to see Snape since the day he had returned almost a week ago, as far as she knew. The fact that Severus had woken earlier that morning had been kept from the girl so far. He had quickly dropped back into unconsciousness after a short and rather disjointed conversation with Poppy, although it was now a natural sleep, rather than the magically induced coma of the last week.

For some reason, Albus had asked Minerva to withhold the news from Hermione, and had requested for her to send the girl to Snape's office, as he wanted to speak with her regarding something that had happened two years ago. Why this couldn't take place in Minerva's own study, she wasn't sure, but the old coot had kept typically tight lipped about his reasons.

Knowing Hermione's continuing irritation with Albus, she knew it would be hard to convince her to go, as she had taken pains to avoid him for the past two years, but for some reason he had insisted that Minerva not let Hermione go without getting her word that she would go. Looking at the girl's stubborn expression as she sipped her tea, Minerva knew there was only one thing that she could possibly say to convince the girl, not just to meet with Albus in the Headmasters study, but also to stay in the castle and speak to Severus.

She'd been avoiding this conversation for the past two years, ashamed that she had misread the situation and the feelings between the two of them so badly. It had become clear to her over time just how well suited the two were for each other, and she regretted having told Snape that he needed to back off from the girl, assuming that he was only using her because he had no one else, and that the Hermione's feelings were false. In hindsight she had realised how wrong she had been, on both of their accounts, and it was time to admit it. She could only hope it would make a difference. She steeled herself, setting her cup down on a side table.

"Hermione, there's something I need to confess…"

* * *

Hermione stalked furiously down the hall towards the Headmaster's office. She was furious with Minerva. She couldn't believe the woman had waited two years to tell her that she'd basically scared Snape off. She'd spent hours wondering what she'd done to make him reject her, both at the time and after, and she'd kept coming back to it in sessions with Sarah. It had become an important part of her decision to leave the castle, as it had formed a large part of her assumption that Snape didn't care for her, and never would.

Now what was she to think? She had almost walked out of the castle there and then, just to spite Minerva. Hermione had realised immediately the old bat was only telling her this now in an effort to keep her in the castle, and she so wanted to throw it back in her face and leave anyway.

She owed it to herself to think it through though. What did this mean for her, and had it really affected Snape's actions in the weeks that had followed their discussion. How could Minerva have just assumed that neither of their feelings were actually true? She was a meddler of a class right up there with the likes of Dumbledore himself, and Merlin knew Hermione still hadn't forgiven him for the way he had played both Snape and herself.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she found the gargoyle had already moved to allow access up to the study, so she began to stomp purposefully upwards. Whatever Dumbledore had to say to her, it had better be good, or she was liable to find a tin of turps and tip it over his painting, the mood she was in. She wouldn't have even come here if Minerva hadn't the gall to threaten to stun her and have Tiggy deliver her to the study. As quick as Hermione was at raising a shield charm, she didn't doubt the older witch still had it in her. The woman had been positively terrifying the day of the battle, and Hermione had almost felt sorry for anyone she had taken on.

She reached the top of the stairs and wrenched the handle of the door down like she had a personal grudge with it, slamming the door open and striding through, stopping only when she reached the single portrait still hanging on the wall. She glared up at it angrily.

"You got me here, what is it you want to speak to me about?"


	68. Chapter 68

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

* * *

Hermione stared, astonished, as the portrait swivelled on invisible hinges to reveal the hidden cupboard behind. Sitting inside, as Dumbledore said there would be, was a large glass phial. She reached inside slowly to pick it up, and the swirling strands inside twisted and spun faster as she lifted it up to look at. _Snape's memories…_ "But why now? It's been two years, you could have shown me this at any time, why do you want me to look at these now?"

There was no reply from the other side of the frame. Hermione pulled the portrait half closed so she could peer around to see what Dumbledore was playing at. It was empty, the old Headmaster having fled.

"Coward…" she muttered under her breath.

Dumbledore had told her that it was important that she view the memories, so despite her misgivings she carried the phial over to the cupboard which housed the pensieve, and pulled it open. The memories were soon swirling around in the silvery liquid of the bowl, and as she looked down into it, she was hit with the sense of déjà vu. Hoping that this would be the last time she had to do this, and with one last glance around the room, she hesitantly lowered her face to the surface.

* * *

She was back in Malfoy Manor, a place she'd not seen for two years. She could see herself passed out on a table, her arms and legs bent un-naturally. _The first day, the day he saved me then…_ Snape was standing over her, his face expressionless. _But why do I need to see this?_

"You will return to me in two days' time, Severus." The hissing voice came from behind him. "I want to know if you have made any progress with her." He stepped up besides Snape to look down at her. A long pale finger trailed down her cheek. "I have heard much from Lucius about this particular mudblood. It is a pity she is not of better birth, her power and intelligence would have been welcomed amongst us. I have fools enough surrounding me, pure blood unfortunately does not guarantee either brains or skill, as you know all too well, my friend. Ah Severus, if only I had more like you…"

The scene shifted to the Headmaster's study, , which for a mere moment was empty, before Snape sudden appeared, apparating in with Hermione magically suspended next to him. Immediately he caught her naked body in his arms, wandlessly cancelling the spell which held her aloft.

"Severus… is that…? Why have you brought Miss Granger here? It is too dangerous…"

"Later, Albus. She needs healing first. I will see to her, and return to explain." He was already striding through the door to his chambers as he spoke.

Then, suddenly, they were in his bathroom, and he was leaning over her prone form, submerged in warm water. The marks around her wrists and ankles were weeping and sore, and Snape was carefully cleaning the dirt from each with a damp cloth. There were several empty potion phials on the floor next to where he was kneeling. _Oh, Severus…_ The real Hermione watched with amazement at his tenderness towards her, even then.

The mist swirled, and Snape was back in his Study, the pensieve currently occupied by Hermione herself forgotten behind him, his furious attention riveted on Dumbledore.

"I'm glad you finally have someone else who understands, Severus. I know it hasn't been easy, the past few years in particular, being unable to show your true character to any except myself."

"I want no-one's pity, least of all that of an insufferable know-it-all who was foolish enough to get herself into a position where she is likely to get one, or both of us killed. If I had wanted sympathy I would have asked for it long ago."

"I am afraid that you will not be able to allow her to leave here Severus. Even if the two of you somehow manage to make her leaving look like a fortuitous escape, Tom will be extremely displeased with you, and if you manage to make it away from the encounter in one piece, he will not trust you as fully as he does now, not if you lose someone as close to Harry as Miss Granger. As much as I dislike what will have to happen to Miss Granger if she stays with you, she is one pupil among many who needs your protection now, and your position at Tom's side is too important to throw away now. No, I am afraid she must stay."

As she listened, Hermione realised that she was still seeing the events of that first day. _Dumbledore really gave him no choice, did he? Poor Severus, he would have willingly been tortured to save me from it._

As Dumbledore had spoken, Snape's face had taken on a haunted look. "No," he seethed with unrepressed anger. "Again you ask too much of me, old man. I never thought you would be able to come up with something worse than asking me to kill you, but this is it. I will _not_ do it." Snape slammed his hands down violently on his desk. "It is bad enough that I have to attend these… parties… where I must look the other way and sometimes take part as innocent women are mutilated and raped, all for the pleasure of the Dark Lord and my brothers. I will not visit the same on Miss Granger."

"I believe Miss Granger must make her own decision, and she _will_ be in possession of all the facts when she does so," said Dumbledore calmly.

The next few memories were mere flashes, and at first they left her feeling hot and aroused. They kissed almost chastely, his body language wary as he lay beside her… She pushed the sheet down lower over her breasts, before grabbing his hand to press against her exposed skin… He showed her how to touch him, his eyes burning with lust as she became bolder, making him buck into her hand as she stroked him. The look of surprise that she was there, truly wanting him to touch her in such away never seemed to leave, and Hermione's chest tightened with the thought that he really believed himself so unlovable.

She trembled with her release as her moved his fingers inside her, his eyes dark and intense as he watched her come apart. She looked like nothing Hermione had ever seen in a mirror, her frizzy curls shone instead, and her face was radiant with a strange beauty, yet she could not see what was different _. Is this how he sees me? she wondered._

He pressed into her gently for the first time, and she sobbed with the pain. Her fingers explored his arms, his back, tangling in his hair and eventually reaching down to squeeze his bum… He came with a muffled cry into her neck…She held him tight with her arms wrapped around his back as he trembled in the aftermath of his orgasm… "I'm sorry," his head was in his hands and he looked ashamed of what he had done…

"Why? I'm not?" She reached out to touch him… "…could you hold me…" she begged… She buried her face in his chest as she wept… The last image of the two of them lingered a few moments longer, and her heart was full as he lay with her pressed close against his chest, stroking her hair and watching her sleep, still with a look of stunned amazement on his face.

_He was so gentle, so loving, even though he cared nothing for me_. She honestly couldn't have imagined enjoying herself half so much her first time if she had been with Ron, as she had assumed for years. _Was it any wonder I started to fall for him that night?_

Everything changed again, and she saw again the moment she had first told him she would forgive him, then he had removed her memories before quietly whispering "Obliviate." He had stayed a few moments, hunched over her now unconscious body, and Hermione was surprised to see a tear slide down his face. Snape brushed his fingers lightly across her cheek. "I will endeavour to do my best for you Hermione, but I will never deserve your forgiveness, not for what I must do now." As she watched her heart broke for him once again.

She reached out towards him, but suddenly, once again they were back in the study, and this time Snape was pacing up and down in front of the line of portraits of the old Heads of the school. He seemed half-demented, his face an odd mixture of rage and distress. "

"I don't know whether I can do this, Albus. It's one thing to take the girl's…" he paused awkwardly and coughed, his cheeks turning red "… but forcing myself on her like this is utterly disgusting. I can't…"

"But you must, Severus. Tom is expecting you later today, and he will expect to see something at least. You must make it seem as if you have been working on breaking her. He will expect to see you using the girl in this way, as well as probing her for information. You are the only one of his followers that would not behave in this way, therefore you must do it, to keep him from becoming suspicious. Miss Granger knew what she signed up to when she agreed to this."

Snape rounded on the painting. "What of how Miss Granger will deal with all this once this is all over? Have you thought of that? I swear, you have even less compassion for those you use now than you did when you were alive. As long as it suits your own ends, what care have you as to how others are treated?"

"Severus, I…"

"Be quiet, old man. I am not interested in the same old excuses you have given me for the past twenty years. Do not worry, I will play my part, as always." And with that, Snape stalked away, climbing the stairs to his quarters, slamming the door at the top so that it echoed loudly around the room.

Expecting the memory to move on again Hermione waited, but as the office scene continued, she realised that she needed to follow Snape to see where he had gone. _Oh Gods, I hope he's not going to do what I think he is. It was bad enough the first time around. I don't think I could bear it from his point of view._

But when she crept down the hall she saw that his own bedroom door was open, rather than the one she had used at first. He was in his lab, a whirlwind of furious activity as he begun to prepare a potion, and he was muttering angrily under his breath. Hermione could only make out a few words here and there, but none of them were very complimentary, and about Voldemort and Dumbledore in equal measure.

The unknown potion only took a few minutes to brew, and as he'd done it without a book Hermione hadn't been able to figure out what it did. By the time he'd finished Snape's body language had changed from barely restrained rage to reluctant and dispirited. He warily eyed the finished potion as if it were poison. _What is it?_

Carefully he ladled it into a large phial, before hesitatingly raising it to his lips and taking a small sip. Hermione watched carefully for a reaction, but it was only when he turned round to leave that she realised what the potion did. Snape reached down uncomfortably to adjust his trousers over his very prominent and uncomfortable looking erection, before visibly steeling himself and striding out the room. She had seen the anguish in his eyes, quickly hidden by a angry sneer that was all too convincing. Hermione couldn't bear to follow him, knowing where he was going. She prayed that the memory would change before she had to hear her own screams. _At least you know now he wasn't turned on by the idea of raping you._ A weight that she hadn't even known was there was suddenly lifted.

She was glad when the memory changed, but her stomach dropped again as the memory returned again to the small room Snape had made for her. Hermione watched in horror as Snape dumped her limp body on the bed. The deed was done at least. No matter that she now knew that she'd agreed to it, it had been all too realistic at the time. Snape picked up the robes he had discarded on the floor before turning to look down at her for a moment before leaving. She was unnaturally still, her eyes open and blank. Snape's face was even more expressionless than normal, but as soon as he pulled the door shut behind him his face crumpled and he sank to the floor in a heap.

She hadn't remembered until now that he had left the room for a few minutes before returning to drag her to the shower. She'd lain there, half insensate and feeling nothing but hatred toward the man that had been curled up on the other side of the door, hurting as much as she had.

The real Hermione forgot her own pain in the face of his, and tried to reach out to touch him again, but her hand passed straight through as the scene shifted once more.

"Close your eyes."

The figure on the bed cringed in fear and tried to pull the blanket tighter, but quickly did as told. Snape quickly pulled his wand from his sleeve and pointed it at her. Unconscious as she now was, her body visibly relaxed. Snape dropped down on the bed next to her, looking old and careworn, the marks she had gouged on his face and neck gone. He gathered her up into his arms and rocked her gently, his face buried in her hair.

"Do you still forgive me now?" he whispered brokenly. "Please… please tell me you do."

The mists swirled, and they were back in his lab. Snape was holding her up by her shoulders as she swayed, a look of intense pain on her face. His worried eyes were darting around the room before returning to her, and the real Hermione spotted an early version of his anti-venon half brewed on the bench. N _o wonder he's worried. If Voldemort had realised…_

"Foolish girl," Snape was saying. "I wondered how long it would take you to stick your nose into something you shouldn't. You've actually managed to disappoint the low expectations I had. I stupidly assumed you would managed to keep out of trouble for at least two hours." His last words were said almost fondly, but the girl in his arms seemed beyond hearing. Snape slowly let her go, and she slid to the floor and after a few moments passed out.

The moment she was unconscious, Snape fell to the floor beside her and dragged her into his arms, cradling her head gently. Passing his fingers over her forehead he whispered something quietly. She stirred slightly, a small moan escaping her lips and the tortured expression on her face softened out. Snape continued to hold her, his fingers gently smoothing strands of hair back from her face as he rocked her gently, seemingly getting as much comfort from her closeness as her was trying to give her unresponsive body. "What must you think of me? Merlin, you must hate me so…" he whispered softly.

Eventually he got to his feet, never letting her leave his arms for a moment and carried her out.

By now Hermione had picked up on the connection between the memories she was being shown. Snape had clearly chosen memories that he felt would show her his side of what had happened, although she was still confused as to the timing. He can't have told Dumbledore to show her at this particular moment, for how was he to have known what would happen? The memories coalesced again, and she forgot her musings to watch.

She was back in the office, and with a bang Snape came billowing in from his chambers.

"How is your guest, Severus? Is she holding up well?"

"…guest?" he spat. "How do you think she's doing, Albus? As if I didn't have to deal with enough hate every day, I now have to put up with it in my own chambers. The girl's probably trying to work out how to either kill me or escape."

From this angle she could see, as she hadn't been able to at the time, the pain in this eyes as he repeatedly cast the Cruciatus curse on her. As soon as the screams stopped and she had passed out Snape rushed across to her, training his wand on her again, not to curse, but to diagnose. Whatever he found seemed to satisfy him somewhat, although the grim look never left his face, for he tucked his wand away and gently untwisted her limbs. He pulled a phial of pain relief out of his pocket and tipped it into her mouth, lifting her head and massaging her throat until she had swallowed it. Then, laying her back on the floor he stood, and walked over to a cupboard, where he pulled out a bottle of firewhiskey. He knocked two glasses back quickly, but took the third over to his seat by the fire as the figure on the floor started to stir. By the time she was awake, Snape was seated calmly by the fire, book in his hand, and a nonchalant expression on his face. The scene shifted.

She lay unconscious in his arms as he sat in his chair, his fingers running almost tenderly down her cheek and across her lips. "I'm so sorry, but I must. Please understand…" he was whispering quietly to her as he cradled her carefully. "If there was any way to spare you this I… I…" He trailed off, pulling her tighter against him.

It was a few hours later. Snape was kneeling before her as she stood with her dress pulled up to expose a large bruise on her side. He brushed his fingers gently over the tender skin, and from this angle Hermione could see his lips move silently as he cast two spells. The first made the bruise turn from an angry red to brown and reduced in size. The second covered the half-healed bruise with a glamour so fast that if Hermione hadn't been watching closely she would have missed it. Snape pulled her dress down.

"There is no lasting damage…"

As soon as the door closed behind her he lifted his head from his hand and flung the plate containing his dinner across the room. Hermione could barely countenance the pain-filled rage that subsided into self-loathing without wishing she could comfort him. He seemed to be barely coping with what he was having to do to her, and she wondered how he had managed to keep up appearances with her so well.

Another memory… She watched Voldemort as he took out his fury over Harry's escape from Malfoy Manor on his followers. Those who had been a part of the failed capture of the boy got it the worse, with only the Malfoys and Bellatrix surviving his rage. Even those who had arrived later, like Snape had not been spared injury.

The scene changed again, and all she saw was the image of her pace, anxious face and the words "I was worried when you didn't come…" before everything shifted once more.

She pointed her wand at Lucius Malfoy as Snape stood behind her, running his fingers teasingly over her body, his eyes dark with a lust she hadn't seen at the time, as well as an erection that he had carefully hidden from her. She saw his worry, carefully hidden from Voldemort and the others as she passed out, and again later when he returned to the room to find her unconscious again. She listened as he subtly tried to persuade the snake-like creature to curb the Carrow's enthusiasm for torturing the students, and saw him struggle to control his emotions when he realised that she was in danger from Lucius.

Another shift. He was in his study, several books open at different places spread out on the desk in front of him, and he was busy scribbling onto a piece of parchment. She walked round the desk to peer over his shoulder at what he was doing. After a few moments of scanning the page she realised that he seemed to be researching a way to remove cursed scars from skin. It was clear from what he had written that he was doing it to remove the marks that Bellatrix had scored onto her arm. _He's doing it for me…_ She looked down at the scars marring her skin. Some days she almost forgot they were there, she'd grown so used to them, other days they would itch like mad as if something was crawling around under her skin. She wondered if Snape had had much luck in his research, she would be more than happy to be rid of them. The memory dissipated and another one took its place.

She saw how Bellatrix and Lucius had ambushed him, slashing at his skin with dark curses as they taunted him about what they would do to his mudblood whore, and how he'd eventually managed to escape them and apperate back to Hogwarts. The memory became dim and hazy as he fought unconsciousness, and eventually went dark as she pushed him into the bath.

When the memory reformed he was leaving her in the bedroom to get dry in front of the fire as he went into his lab. Hermione followed him in. He quickly pulled out several potions from the cupboards at the end and took all but one, looking visibly better once he had finished. The last potion he left on the work surface as he began to pace, clearly trying to decide something by the look on his face and his low mutterings. Hermione recognised the phial. It was the potion he had brewed to force an erection.

Eventually Snape stopped pacing and decanted an amount of the potion into a smaller phial which he stuck in his pocket. _So that's what he took that evening_. The memory shifted as he opened the door to return to his bedroom and suddenly they were in his room, and he was quietly laying her dress over her chair as she slept. He turned to look at her, his eyes dark and pained. Reaching down he gently pressed a kiss to her forehead, before placing her hairbrush by her pillow, and the memory dissolved.

Time after time she watched him fly into a rage or sink into depression after being forced once more to treat her in a way that he clearly despised. Of course, since the return of her memories she had realised that everything had all been an act, one that she had agreed to and that Snape had never wanted to perform. While she'd felt as bad for him as she had for herself, seeing it all like this from his perspective truly showed her just how much he'd gone through in order to keep her safe. And not just her; every moment he'd spent with Voldemort had been a dangerous balancing act that sometimes he'd only survived by the skin of his teeth. She wondered how he'd dealt with all the pressure. Her presence meant that he could not even relax the mask in his own rooms.

She watched his conversations with Voldemort, his excuses for his behaviour concerning her, and she was amazed at how fine a line he walked in order to keep her safe. He only just treated her badly enough for his master's liking, yet he conducted himself in a way he could only just force himself to bear. Snape's excuses were clever, explaining away even his small kindnesses towards her as part of his plan to break her, and she could barely believe the amount of courage it must take to lie in such a way to the dark wizard's face.

Hermione saw the way he worried every time he was to give her memories back, scared of her reaction, and chided by Dumbledore when he found it hard to open up and talk to her. She was horrified at the outright hostility he received from staff and students whenever he left his rooms, the students even going so far as to try to jinx him when they thought he wasn't looking. She watched him removing the memories time after time, his responses to her thanking him and forgiving him once she had passed out, and his despair and guilt, his lack of belief in his own self-worth tore at her heart every time.

He put her to bed, tucking her in and stroking her hair softly, refusing to give in to his need for her, before groaning her name as he stroked himself to completion in the shower. Later he would pull her sleeping body back against his and bury his nose in her hair when he was sure she wouldn't realise. One night he chased after her as she ran from his room in tears, but stopping outside, his head pressed against the door as he listened to her sob. Hermione could remember her reaction to their kiss all too well, but had never realised he had followed her, or listened as she cried herself to sleep, unable to comfort her.

When he had managed to avoid her, Dumbledore had forced his hand again, reminding him that ignoring the girl was just as dangerous as treating her too well. Snape had refused to listen, protesting that there had to be a better way, that there had to be something they could do that would not require him to continually hurt her. He had soon after come up with the idea to persuade her to seem to cooperate, with her agreeing and convincing him to give her a lust potion to make things easier.

Her tortured her again, and she could now see the pain in his eyes that she'd not noticed when writhing on the floor in agony, his worry when she banged her head, knocking herself out and how he'd held her in his arms to cast a diagnostic spell on her. A few minutes later he'd had her back in his arms as he teased her to the point that she was begging for him to touch her, before all but pushing her out of the room in order to get himself back under control.

Hermione was surprised to see how openly lustful her own face and actions had been, and she admired Snape's restraint in not just taking her there and then. His expression and his body had betrayed how much he'd wanted to, and despite the way her cheeks had heated, she'd not been able to stop watching as he'd pulled his cock out of his trousers and relieved the tension. Hermione had to repress the urge to relieve her own. His expression afterwards, as he stood over the de-glamoured books on his desk, had quickly turned from contented to dejected, and Hermione could only wonder what he had been thinking about.

That evening seemed to be the first time he hadn't needed to take a potion before having sex with her. Perhaps it was the fact that he wasn't having to force her, quite the opposite actually. The next morning however, had been a different matter. What she hadn't been able to see that morning was the hurt, almost scared look on his face when she'd hit him. He didn't seem to be able help the anger with which he had responded, and this time he'd had to leave her to take the potion before fucking her. Hermione had almost cried after at the way he had lost control in his lab afterwards, smashing everything within reach and not even caring about the blood dripping from the glass embedded in his hand. The look of utter desolation on his face as he had slumped down on the floor had torn at her heart, and she hated the fact that she could do nothing to comfort him in that moment.

She watched him tell Dumbledore that their plan had worked, that she had given him promises that had satisfied Voldemort, as had his reasons for not torturing her further. He reported how delighted Voldemort had seemed at the idea that she would lead her friend to his death, as well as his plans for muggleborns in his future dystopia. For all that that their situation had improved though, Snape's demeanour was subdued and grave, and Hermione could see that he was hurting in a way that he masked when she was around.

When the memory changed again she saw how horrified he'd been when she'd taken McGonagall's hex that had been meant for him. She'd been fairly woozy when she'd woken, and hadn't realised how openly he'd shown how much he cared, or how at ease he was with touching her in front of McGonagall. The expression on the older witch's face was incredulous, although she had still been wary of Snape at first. When he smiled down at her upon waking Hermione could feel her heart beating faster, just as it had done at the time. He truly was handsome when he wasn't scowling. It really was no wonder McGonagall had guessed there was something going on between the two of them, their body language had made it extremely obvious.

She saw the conversation between Snape and McGonagall a couple of hours later, and couldn't help but feel angry once more at the latter's interference in their relationship. _No wonder he treated me the way he did, after what she said to me? How dare she suggest that he isn't good enough for me? That's MY decision, and no one else's_. It would be some time before she could forgive the witch, both for saying it in the first place, and for keeping it from her for two years.

Her heart almost broke at Snape's declaration that he didn't believe that she could possibly truly care for him. His next responses, however made her breath hitch. _Did he…? I think he basically just admitted he had feelings for me._ She felt suddenly giddy, despite the fact that he hadn't said it outright. Her giddiness faded as the conversation ended. She could see it in his face, how closed off he had forced himself to be. _Why couldn't Minerva just have left things alone?_

She could feel a tugging behind her sternum which signified the memories coming to an end. Hermione was surprised, as there had been about 2 weeks between the last memory and the battle, yet Snape hadn't felt the need to save anything during that time. _Although, to be honest, we barely spoke to each other except when he was teaching me._ The last few flashes of memory she saw as she fell back out of the pensieve were of her. Her face, red and blotchy with tears, his fingers trailing gently across her skin as she slept or twisting in her hair as she read at his feet. She came apart beneath him, she reached up to kiss him, she told him she trusted him, that she forgave him, that she wanted him.

Hermione found herself sinking to the floor of the study with exhaustion. She felt like she'd been in there for days, and indeed as she looked up at the clock she realised half the day had passed. Her gaze fell on the still empty portrait. It didn't look like she'd get any answers from Dumbledore about why he had shown her the memories.

She leant back against the cupboard behind her as she thought about what she'd seen. Perhaps Snape had saved his memories for her so that she could understand what he had been through, or his reasoning behind what he had done to her. To Hermione, those considerations were not as important as what else she thought she had learned. He _did_ care for her, love her perhaps, but the circumstances as well as Minerva's interference and his own feeling of guilt had convinced him to push her away. He didn't believe he was good enough for her, or that she could feel something for him back.

It was up to her to convince him otherwise.


	69. Chapter 69

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

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The next morning found Hermione making her way down to the infirmary. She'd been far too tired to go to see him the night before, and far too emotional in any case. She'd returned to her rooms to give herself time to reflect on what she'd learned, and had come to the painful realisation that perhaps confronting him with her feelings and trying to push to into admitting his wasn't the best way to go about it.

It had taken Hermione a good part of two years to come to terms with everything that had happened, not that she didn't still have the occasional nightmare or bad day, so she recognised the possibility that he would also need some time to get to grips with everything. A lot had changed in the past two years, and yet for him the war was only just over. The last he knew, he was an outcast, hated by pupils and teachers alike, and by most of decent society. Now he was a known hero, whose return would be of huge interest to the wizarding world. Also, she knew, he'd been as badly affected as her by what he'd had to do to her, perhaps more, and beyond that who knows what he'd gone through as spy for both the Order and Voldemort.

How long would he need to recover from it all? She couldn't imagine he would ever agree to talk to someone like Sarah, no matter how hard he was finding things. He was far too solitary and reliant on himself to open up to another the way Hermione had to the psychiatrist. He would insist on dealing with it alone, and she was sure he would likely not even speak to her about anything that troubled him, even their shared experiences, when the only person that would be able to fully understand would be her. No, he needed time, and she was sure he would much more receiving it from her than to force him into something he wasn't ready for. She'd much rather he be sure in his feelings for her than for him to realise further down the line that he had been mistaken. She'd waited two years, she could wait a little longer.

To that end, she'd spent half the night writing and re-writing the letter that she now held. There had been no news of him waking, so she intended to leave it with him as an explanation as to why she was leaving.

She opened the door to the infirmary. There was only one student currently occupying a bed, and Snape was safely hidden in a room at the back where only the staff had access. Hermione passed straight through the main room, with only a brief smile at the injured first year. She needed no excuse to be going through into the back. As Slughorn's apprentice she brewed and delivered many potions to the infirmary, so she could be sure that no one would ask questions.

Poppy was in her office, but Hermione passed by silently, leaving the nurse busy with her paperwork. She paused outside the door to Snape's room. _What if he's awake…?_ Slowly she pushed the door open a tiny amount and peered in, breathing a sigh of relief when he seemed to still be sleeping. She opened the door the rest of the way and stepped in, closing the door behind her with a quiet click.

Snape still hadn't moved, so Hermione stepped across to place her letter on the nightstand. She turned to face him, biting her bottom lip nervously before gathering the courage to speak.

"Don't you dare think I'm running out on you," she whispered. "I'll be back for you, Severus Snape, even if it's to hear you tell me… to tell me you don't want me. Don't you think I won't." She leant over and pressed a kiss softly to his lips. "I love you," she whispered, pressing her hand to his cheek for a moment. With one last, sad look, she turned and left.

As soon as her footsteps had faded Snape's eyes fluttered open. After a few moments he looked around wearily to see if there was anyone with him, and his gaze fell on the letter resting next to his bed.

* * *

 

He'd been vaguely aware that someone had come into the room, but had struggled to wake. He was still so tired that reaching full consciousness felt like clawing his way out of a deep pit, and all of his limbs seemed to be twice as heavy as normal. As his mind came back into focus he recalled more clearly what he'd heard the girl had been saying. What did she mean, run out on him? Where was she going?

Minerva and Poppy hadn't told him much yet, he'd still been too out of it last night to stand much conversation, but beyond the fact that he seemed to be a free man, the one thing that had stuck out was what Minerva had said about Hermione putting her whole life on hold to wait for his return. Why then was she now leaving him? He wanted to run after her, but he knew he wouldn't get two feet before collapsing.

With great effort he hauled himself further upright in his bed before reaching out to pick up the envelope, running his fingers over the neat script that formed his name before turning it over and opening it. He pulled out a single sheet of paper, covered in writing on both sides, but as he unfolded it a piece of torn card fell out onto his blanket covered chest.

With trembling fingers he picked it up and flipped it over. _Lily…_ Her sad eyes gazed up at him, but the pain that normally tore at him with any thought of her was curiously absent. _Well maybe not too curiously,_ he reasoned, realising suddenly that he'd fulfilled the promise he'd made at her grave, to protect her son and to take revenge on the madman that had caused her death. The burden of that promise had weighed him down for almost eighteen years, but now he was released from it. Perhaps that was why the image of her didn't affect her the way it once had. He felt free from the guilt he'd carried for so long. _The guilt over Lily's death at least, but what about Hermione…? Why did she waste two years waiting for me?_

 _She said she loved me… so why is she leaving?_ Does she mean it? If only Poppy hadn't forced Minerva out before she could explain more. _Not that my situation has improved… I may have been pardoned, but that can't erase all the terrible things I've done, not least to her… Minerva was right, I'm not good enough for her._

He looked back at the letter he had momentarily abandoned. Curiosity won out over his worrying, and he flipped it open.

 ** _Severus,_**

 ** _I've decided to leave Hogwarts at the end of the school year. I've stayed here too long, waiting for your return, and it's time to move on. I've accepted a post at St Mungo's where I'll be working in the potions department, and finishing the mastery that I started with Slughorn. I'll be in the castle for a few weeks still, but I plan on giving you some space so you have some time to figure out what you want._**

 ** _Albus showed me your memories. I think he hoped I would see something in them that would change my mind about leaving, but they've just made me more determined to go. Merlin knows I had more than a few things to work out after the battle, not least of all how I felt for you. I don't want you to think I'm running from you or that I don't care for you. I just want to give you the same thing I had – time, to decide how you feel. I don't want you to feel pressured, because I very much hope you feel the same way about me than I do about you, but I could never bear it if I rushed you into something and you realised later that it was all just a product of the situation that we were in._**

 ** _Severus, I hope you'll understand why I've chosen to do this. If you do decide you don't want to have any sort of relationship with me, please remember I'd rather know than be left hanging. In any case, whatever you do decide, I hope you can bring yourself to speak to me, as either way I want to find closure on this whole affair. (That's my nice way of saying don't take too long or I'll be hunting you down.)_**

 ** _Ever yours,_**

 ** _Hermione_**

 ** _I love you_**

Snape realised he'd been holding his breath as he'd read, and he let it all out in a big whoosh. _So that explains a few things…_ He found himself surprised by the letter's contents; to find that despite seeing someone… this Sarah, that she hadn't been persuaded that she didn't love him after all. He'd been sure that Minerva and anyone else who knew what had happened would try to convince her to forget him. He was also surprise d to see that she was planning a career in potions. Not many of his students ever had. Most were not capable of much more than the occasional home brewing, and his style of teaching often put off those who might have gone into the profession.

Not least of all, he was astounded by the maturity she had shown in deciding to walk away and give him some space. It was the act of a woman, not a desperate child with her first crush. _Then again she's had two years to deal with it..._ Strangely though, the face that she had done such a thing made him believe that she was genuine in her affections in a way that her launching herself at him to declare her undying glove wouldn't have.

 _She loves me._

The question was, what was he to do about it? Did the fact that he was now apparently a hero mean that a relationship with the girl – no, woman – wouldn't be frowned upon, or would he still drag her down with him if he did decide to pursue her? The urge to chase after her and claim her faded. She was right, he did need some time, to find out how he truly was perceived in this post-Voldemort world, and to be sure himself that he was doing the right thing, not only for her, but for himself.

 _First things first, I need to speak to Minerva._


	70. Chapter 70

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

LostAngelSoul Just a little more drama, I just can't help it!

Thorn, I think Snape realised he had some thinking to do, it's not that he didn't want to go after her. I love writing Snape's POV, I've not been able to write too much of it in this story, so I think the next might be mainly, or all in his POV. A for the memories, Snape left them in case he died so she could understand the other side of the story. Dumbledore's just showing them to her because he likes to meddle. What Snape discussed with Volemort in secret was nothing more than his explainations for why he was treating her a certain way.

LissaDream I'm not good at waiting for updates, I'm amazed so many people managed to stick with this for so long.

Fantomette34, She's still running, but will he follow her?

Fragilereality Only 2 more to go I think. The idea I have for my next story was going to be a oneshot, but I'm not so sure now it won't be longer. I've got 5/6 different ideas for stories written down.

* * *

Hermione made her way down to the station on her own, her trunk containing her shrunken belonging hovering behind her. She'd skipped the leaving feast as Minerva had told her Snape was attending, although the older witch had tried to convince her to come too. In truth, Hermione hadn't wanted to deal with the fuss that would have been made over her leaving, and had been happy to escape the castle quietly.

Snape's survival and presence in the castle had been kept under wraps until just before the end of term. He had moved out of the infirmary back to his rooms in the middle of the night far earlier than Poppy had wanted him to go. His wand had been left in his bedroom, dropped and forgotten, otherwise the nurse wouldn't have managed to keep him there for any length of time once he'd woken up.

He had apparently kept himself holed up in his rooms, only admitting Minerva, Poppy and occasionally Kingsley. Minerva had somehow persuaded him to return as Headmaster, although Slughorn had refused to stay longer than one more year without his star pupil. Minerva had been quite gleeful that it was no longer her problem to find a new Potions Master.

From what she understood, his return to life had been carefully managed with a carefully worded statement to the press, released the same evening that the Governors were called into a meeting to announce the news and discuss his proposed return as Headmaster. Minerva had apparently browbeaten anyone who was wavering on the matter into submission.

The students had been told the same morning that the news of his return as Head was announced in the papers, about a week after the original story of his survival, and with another to go before the end of the school year. Snape had swept into the Great Hall for breakfast, his frock coat and teaching robes back in place, the only difference being the lack of the scowl he had continuously worn the entirety of the last few years before the battle. As the students who had been at Hogwarts during those years observe, there was something about him that had changed, although they couldn't say quite what.

Hermione had been absent that morning, warned by Minerva, and all the mornings after when he had appeared to eat. She only turned up at the lunch and evening meals, when she knew he would be absent. By the time the end of the school year ended she'd somehow managed to avoid him entirely.

She had mixed feelings about leaving the castle. It had been home to her growing into her abilities as a witch. Except for the nine months on the run, it had been home to her for almost ten years, and she felt her heart wrench as she turned to get her last glimpse of the castle, before the hills and trees surrounding the track hid it.

She'd hoped that, despite her letter, he wouldn't leave it too long. It's only been two weeks, Hermione. _Give the man a chance. You had two whole years_ … It didn't stop her from feeling miserable, as if by leaving the castle, she was leaving him for ever. With every step further away from the castle her feet seemed to get heavier, and the tightness in her chest increased.

Did he even know she was leaving? _He must – Minerva would have told him._ The older with had been nothing but encouraging, trying to push the two of them back together. From their chats over tea, Hermione knew that while Snape seemed to be eager to get on with his new start at life, he had all but refused to discuss anything to do with Hermione. He had barely listened to what she'd had to say, although he'd not been able to control his expression when Minerva had told him that Hermione now knew that she'd advised him to forget a relationship with her.

Hermione smiled faintly at the memory of Minerva describing how she'd been ready to grab her wand, so sure was she that Snape was about to hex her when she told him that she'd not only said something similar to Hermione at the time, but that she'd also been wrong to tell them both what she had. As with all her news of Snape, Hermione had tried her hardest to not seem eager for as much about him as she could get, but she was pretty sure she failed miserably.

Minerva had also told Hermione about their first proper chat after he'd woken up. Snape had seemed strangely focused on his new status, and gobsmacked to find that Harry had worked so hard to clear his name with the general population, as well as obtaining a pardon. He was not, however, surprised to find that Hermione had organised much of it, although the news elicited the first smile Minerva had seen on him since Hermione had been hit by her hex in the Headmaster's study. The older witch seemed to be sure that Snape loved her, but Hermione didn't dare rely on her judgement. She didn't want to get her hopes up if they were only to be later dashed.

The main gates were fast approaching, her last few moments at Hogwarts finally here. As she reached them, she turned to look back up the track, wishing hopelessly that she would see hi appearing around the corner, despite the fact she knew he was taking part in the leaving feast. The track was empty.

With an angry swipe at tears that were suddenly in her eyes, Hermione turned her back on the school and stepped through the open gates, feeling the tingle of wards wash over her. She didn't look back again as she made her way to the station.

The Hogwarts Express was already there, the engine warming up in preparation for leaving. Hermione left her trunk with the pile of students' luggage for the porters to load it onto the train, and climbed into the rear carriage. She chose a compartment and closed the door behind her, pulling the curtains closed in the hope that no one would disturb her.

Seating herself by the window she settled in to wait, pulling a book from her shoulder bag and beginning to read. It was an hour or so before the students began to pour onto the platform, all chattering nosily. The bustle and confusion didn't seem to lessen until the figures of Pomona and Vector appeared on the platform, having drawn the short straw of making sure the students all made it onto the train lately.

The crowd outside began to thin, and thumps of bags and yelling now filled the train. Only once did anyone try opening the door to Hermione's compartment, and they quickly disappeared again. Hermione abandoned her book and took to watching out of the window, hoping that Snape would appear to stop her from leaving. She had managed well so far, and had not been too disheartened that he had not come to find her.

Right now, however, her self-control seemed to be at the edge of snapping, and she was suddenly glad that Harry had ignored her protests and had insisted on meeting her at Kings Cross. She felt strangely fragile, and was glad she wouldn't have to make her way across London by herself.

She was going to stay with him and Ginny at Grimmauld Place for a while, until she'd earned enough at her new job to afford a place of her own. Minerva had managed to wangle her a small allowance as she'd done some brewing and assisted in class, and although she'd got her room and board for free, most of it had been spent on books and the few personal items she'd needed.

Despite her dread over leaving Hogwarts, she really was looking forward to starting her new job. Slughorn, while an excellent potioneer, wasn't the best teacher when it came to the high level she was studying at, and Hermione felt that her progress had nearly atrophied. She was excited to move on to new challenges and to apply her knowledge in a more practical way. Brewing for the Hogwarts' infirmary would be a doddle in comparison.

Spending more time with her friends would be good for her. She'd rather neglected them over the past two years, except at holidays, focusing instead firstly on Snape's cure and then her mastery. Her friends understood of course, they knew all too well how she would focus on her work to the exclusion of all else. Hermione knew she was lucky to have such understanding friends.

It would almost feel like being back at school in a way. Since her friends had left school a year previous she had been very much a loner; not quite a teacher, and two years older than the oldest students. Sharing a house with Ginny and Harry, and with Ron, Luna and many of her other friends dropping in, it would feel like being back in Gryffindor Tower again. And if Snape did decide not to pursue her, it would be far better to be away from Hogwarts, with her friends around her, and away from the sight and memories of the man she loved.

The train whistle interrupted her thoughts. Snape still hadn't appeared, and with the signal that the train was ready to depart the platform cleared of the last few stragglers. The clanking of rods and the groaning of the couplings as the engine began to pull seemed unbearably loud to Hermione. She slumped back dejectedly against the seat, feeling horribly sick. He wasn't coming. The carriages began to move, taking her away from her long-time home and the man she loved. Tears prickled at the back of her eyes and she fought furiously to stop them falling as the train began to move faster.

He appeared suddenly out of the swirling steam covering the platform, glancing into the windows until he found her. Her carriage was now nearly at the end of the platform, and still picking up speed. Her eyes locked with his until the train had carried her too far away from the platform for her to see his expression. The last she saw, he was lowering his head dejectedly, as the train disappeared around the corner.


	71. Chapter 71

Disclamer: See chapter 1

  


* * *

Hermione dumped the bag of shopping on the table and went to the cupboard to find a tin of food for the yowling creature that was winding itself around her legs.

"Stop that, Crookshanks, if I fall over and break my neck you'll never get fed."

His yowl seemed to show what he thought of that notion, and he went to wait patiently by his bowl. Having filled it, Hermione gave him a quick scratch on the top of his head and went back to sorting out the shopping. The two bottles of wine she set to one side and cast a quick cooling charm over, before setting out the other ingredients. It was her turn to cook tonight, so she'd slipped into the supermarket on her way home. Ginny she didn't expect back for another hour, although Ron and Luna would be arriving before too long, and she knew Harry was home as she could hear the shower going.

After her friends had graduated from Hogwarts it had become a tradition to meet twice a month for dinner, at Grimmauld Place and Luna's house alternately. Ron and Luna were going steadily, and their friends knew that Ron was thinking about asking the eccentric witch to marry him. He wasn't the only one debating marriage. Hermione had helped Harry to pick out an engagement ring for Ginny only a week previous, and he was now trying to come up with a special way to propose.

Since Hermione had moved in she'd started taking turns with Ginny at cooking when dinner was at their house. Her friends made a big effort not to make her feel like a spare wheel, but spending so much time around two happy couples in the room made her wonder about Snape. What was he doing, and was he thinking of her? It had been over two months since she'd taken the Hogwarts' Express back to London, and the new school year was starting in just over a week. She'd hoped he would come to find her over the holidays, but as September approached she had seriously started to lose heart.

She'd actually caught sight of him in Diagon Alley a week ago. He'd been trailing reporters and, Hermione remembered with a jealous pang, a fair few interested women. Apparently, despite their best efforts, word about Snape's love for Lily had spread, although never confirmed by anyone, and Snape was now seen as rather a romantic figure. Hermione had almost spat her tea out with laughter at the first healer who had said as much to her, and many of her female colleagues had been disappointed when Hermione wouldn't gossip about their relationship during the time she'd been locked up in his rooms.

Her job was almost everything she'd hoped it would be, the main downside being the amount of gossip that was traded between the various staff. Hermione had become so used to living in the bubble that was Hogwarts, that she found everyone's interest in her private life irritating. She was there to work, not to discuss who she may or may not have been seen talking to, and how attractive she found them. The one person she would have like to talk about with a girlfriend was the one she couldn't bring herself to mention. Whatever she said about him would only end up in the papers in any case, so she kept quiet and got on with her work.

Luckily she had such good friends who understood what she was going through and who always lent her and ear or a shoulder to try-not-to-cry on, although she tried her best not to drag them into her problems. They would talk of nothing else otherwise.

She'd just started to chop the vegetables when there was a knock on the front door. She let out a huff of irritation. _Is he incapable of bringing his keys_? Almost every time Ron turned up he'd either lost or forgotten them. She dropped what was in her hands onto the table and started towards the front door, looking up at the old clock as she went past. _They're early..._

She reached for the handle and tugged the door open. "Ronald Weasely, if you're going to tell me you've lost another set of keys I'll…!" She stopped as she met a wall of black.

It was him.

Looking up at him now as he stood on her doorstep she could understand the sudden interest in him. He looked different than he had before, less gaunt and far healthier. There was something about him, something different, although she couldn't quite put her finger on what. He looked… amazing. Her mouth went dry and she found herself unable to find words to say to him. Gods, he was attractive, his sensual lips curved up into a slight smile at the sight of her.

_Merlin… how do I look? S_ he tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear self-consciously. She knew she was likely to look a bloody mess. Slaving away over hot cauldrons all day made her hair frizz, and when it was her turn to cook she would normally get the cooking started then jump in the shower before dinner. She wished he'd come an hour later, then she might have looked a bit more presentable.

They stared at each other for a moment in awkward silence, before he cleared his throat and said, "Do you mind if I come in."

"Oh uh, yes, of course. I mean… No, come in." She turned away before cringing in embarrassment. _Smooth, Hermione…_

She heard him shut the front door, and she led him down the hall into the library, her mind working like crazy. She'd been praying for him to turn up, and now he was hear she wasn't sure she wanted to know why he'd come. She was too worried he'd come to reject her.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned to him. "I'm glad to see you looking so well. Minerva tells me you're fully healed and there should be no lasting effects. Congratulations on your re-appointment as headmaster, by the way. I knew that as soon as people knew the whole story they would think differently… I…uh… She trailed off as he smirked down at her. "What…?"

"Clearly some things never change." He sounded amused, and she coloured as she realised she had been babbling. Feeling stupid and off balance, she immediately went on the defensive.

"Why are you here, Severus?

He frowned slightly at her petulant tone. "I… I read your letter. I thank you for your consideration of my… position. You said you wanted to talk to me, whatever I decided."

"Yes, I did," she replied, somewhat stiffly, turning away. _Oh gods, here it comes. He's going to turn me down._

"I'm sorry, perhaps I misunderstood your letter…" His voice was suddenly guarded. "I thought you had expressed a desire to… explore a possible relationship with me."

She turned back to him, but still couldn't look into his eyes. She felt sick and shaky, as if her legs were about to give way. "Yes… yes I did, but I understand if you don't want t….

"I didn't say that. That's not why I'm here."

Her mind seemed to be working at half-speed. "It's not?" She finally managed to look up at him.

"No…" He stepped towards her, the slight smile back on his face. He lifted one hand to cup her cheek. "I realised I'd be the biggest fool in existence to let you go. I can safely say I've never met anyone quite like you, Hermione."

For a moment she didn't realise what he meant, and when it finally hit her she staggered backwards until her thighs hit the arm of one of the two sofas. She leant against it, grateful for the support. _He wants me… he came for me!_ She was about to rush into his arms when another thought hit her.

"What about Lily…?" She bit her tongue as soon as she'd spoken. _Idiot, no subtlety at all…_

His face lost some of its expression and he froze. "What about her?"

Damn, he was going to make this difficult. "You know… I, uh… Well I guess, I need to know how you feel about her. I don't exactly have a lot of experience with relationships, but I think I can safely assume I'm never going to be happy coming second to a ghost." _Like a bull in a china shop…_

He seemed surprised by her words, as if he'd never considered it before. "Do you really think I could have come here with the intention of telling you I wanted a relationship if I wasn't able to move on?"

Hermione thought back to the article she'd seen in the prophet. "I'm not the only one that seems to think you're still hung up on her. I've saw all those women trailing around after you when that article came out. She'd apparently the only woman you'll ever love, although I see there are plenty hoping to be the one to mend your broken heart."

Snape looked as though he'd swallowed something nasty.

"That rag," he sneered. "I'd love to know who spoke to the press. Although, to be honest, I'm surprised you managed to keep it hidden for so long. I've been looking back over the papers after the battle and I've seen how much scrutiny you were all under."

"No more than you are now," she shrugged. Snape had been in the press almost every day since his 'miracle' reappearance, whether it was speculation over his whereabouts for the past two years, or some nutcase claiming to have his lovechild. The article about Lily had put paid to the latter at least.

"In any case, they got it wrong," he said with finality.

"Oh? In what way?"

"It's not Lily I'm pining for, not since I ended up bringing home a scraggly little waif that refused to leave, even after I treated her terribly."

He stepped closer, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly. Hermione was frozen to the spot with anticipation.

"I won't lie and tell you I'll forget Lily, but I've learned to leave her back in the past, where she should have been many years past. Truth be told, I barely thought of her after that first night."

"First night…? You mean…"

"Our first night together, when you asked me to take your virginity." One hand started to trail up her arm gently, and she swallowed hard at the sensation. "At first I felt like I was betraying her, although I didn't understand why. It's not like you were the first woman I'd been with since she died, but even then I already felt more for you than I realised, and it confused me. I think if I'd had any inkling you might knock Lily off the pedestal that I created for her many years ago, I might have refused to let you stay, even if it had meant my death." He shrugged slightly. "By the time I had any clue it was far too late. Sometimes I even wished the Dark Lord would win because it would mean I wouldn't have to give you up. I just couldn't believe that you could ever feel for me what I did for you. You're a far better a person than Lily ever was, and if she didn't want anything to do with me, how could you? You're the only one who ever chose to help me without wanting something in return. The courage you showed by deciding to stay with me was astounding. I might not have shown it, but I was beyond grateful that you did. I could never have refused you anything that first evening."

His hand had now moved up to rest on her shoulder, his thumb gently stroking the skin at the side of her neck. Hermione fought to concentrate on he was saying. His touch felt wonderful, and he smelled amazing, but what he was saying was more important right now than her body's response to him. She tried to move back again but she was already pressed up against the sofa with nowhere to go.

"I'm not that special, Severus. I'm sure others wouldn't have treated you so badly if they'd known the truth. I'm sure anyone would have done what I did when faced with such a decision. Any courage I had was far less than yours, spying on and lying to that madman for so long. There are many people who showed more courage than I during that battle, friends who lost their lives because of it. Even Lily had the courage to die to protect Harry. I'm no better than she is."

"What I did and said to Lily was no worse than what I did to you during your first few years at Hogwarts. I treated you, and any who were not Slytherin, abominably. You always help those with less ability or status than you, she might have done so when she was younger, but as soon as she realised her power over others she became far more selfish, less giving unless she though it was worth her while. She wasn't a bad person, but neither is she like you. You're an incredible woman, Hermione, it was impossible not to fall for you and forget her. I tried to let you go not because I loved her, but because I thought I was doing the right thing for you. My last feelings for Lily died the moment I woke up and realised I'd fulfilled my promise to protect her son. Even if she appeared right now, I'd never give you up for her, not for anything."

Hermione was silent for a few moment, staring up into his eyes as if she could read the truth in his eyes. "You… do you really mean that?" she whispered, her heart fluttering madly in her chest.

"I do... Every word." A second hand gripped her other shoulder as he moved closer again.

She looked away, biting her lip, still unable to truly believe it. She'd really managed to convince herself this moment would never happen. Snape seemed to understand her hesitancy.

"Hermione, I don't want you to ever doubt my feelings for you. Let me show you…" He lifted his hands to her face, running his fingers softly across her skin before lifting her face with two fingers under her skin so she was forced to look into his eyes.

"Legilimens…"

She felt the gentle pressure on her mind, foreign but yet so familiar, and it was as easy as breathing to let him in. His warm presence seemed to fill a hole in her she hadn't even known was there. Instead of sifting through her memories, this time he began to push his own at her instead.

She felt his confusion and guilt warring with his own arousal as she encouraged him to touch her, shyly baring her breasts to him, before showing him how she liked to be touched. He watched her reach her peak beneath him, his fingers buried between her legs. Her arms and legs wound tightly around him as he pressed himself into her over and over, her cries of pain slowly turning to pleasure, and his shame when he came before he could bring her to orgasm for a second time.

He ordered her to get into his bed, hoping she wouldn't refuse and make things difficult. She could feel his disgust at himself for doing what he'd just stopped Lucius from doing to her, and as he started to run his hands over her unwilling body, he couldn't but help contrast it to the way she had readily accepted him into her arms a few weeks previously. He longed to give her the release she clearly wanted, despite herself, but he knew that he had to convince her that he was only there for his own needs. _Please forgive me_ …

Her own face came slowly into focus above her, pale and worried, her body warm against his in the cold water as she ran her finger gently back and forth over this lips. Hermione could feel his astonishment as he realised what she had done, saving him… healing him, even though he was her despised captor. How could she bear to touch him? He didn't want her to stop, so starved of human contact and affection was he. He knew he was pathetic, nervously waiting for her to realise he was awake and unable to move in the hope that she wouldn't notice his scrutiny for a few moments more.

They were in the bedroom, and he watched as she carefully brushed through her hair, turning it from a rat's nest into softly rippling spirals, and he longed to wrap them around his fingers. As the firelight flickered gently over her exposed skin he finally admitted to himself for the first time that he thought her beautiful. But his attraction to her was overshadowed by the guilt he felt at treating her so badly, and he knew he would have to take the potion he had grabbed from his lab in order to make him hard enough to assault her again. He felt it necessary to maintain the semblance of control over her, for Voldemort's eyes at least. Gods, he hated himself.

Snape pushed more memories at her several in quick succession, almost more emotion than image. He was transfixed by the way the water trickled slowly down her glistening back as he ran a cloth tenderly across her shoulders. The almost tangible aura of her anger and shame was all that prevented his from pressing his lips to her wet skin, and Hermione could feel his almost overwhelming sense of longing for something he did not yet understand.

She felt his jolt of arousal, quickly tempered down, as her hair suddenly puffed out in a golden halo around her head at his silent spell. With her skin pink and glowing from the hot bath and her mane wild about her face she looked well and truly shagged. And petrified. She clearly thought she knew what was coming next. _Merlin, what kind of monster am I?_

He ran his fingers down her cheek, wishing that her expression was something other than hate and distrust. He missed the warmth with which she treated him when she had her memories. He'd had enough hatred to last ten lifetimes. What had he done to be cursed so…? _Dammit! You can't afford to be weak now…_

She was sprawled out on the floor, unconscious, tear tracks beginning to dry on her bloodless cheeks. _I don't want to do this anymore. This is too hard! Damn them both for insisting that she stay._ He knelt down and pulled her into his arms, as much to comfort himself as her.

A strange, unfamiliar feeling crept over him as he gently brushed through her hair as she sat before him on the floor. He'd never had someone to sit back with like this, to care for. He wouldn't mind spending his evening like this, comfortable and quiet together in front of the fire. It was a type of peaceful domesticity that he had never experienced, even as a child. The scent of her hair and the warmth against his legs seemed to soothe his aching soul. If only he could forget she wasn't there by choice. He realised suddenly that his fingers were gripped tightly in her hair and forced himself to unclench his fist. _Am I really so un-loveable that no-one has ever wanted this with me?_

Hermione saw her own tear-stained face, distraught and worried that she wouldn't be able to please him. _If you only knew…_ He struggled not to pull her into his arms to comfort her.

"I'm yours…" His heart seemed to skip a beat at her earnest declaration. _Yes, mine…_ He studied her skin by moonlight. She was so beautiful, so pure. How could he ever be worthy of her? She would be gone as soon as she could and he would be alone once more. _Perhaps it would be better to be dead than to be forever wishing for something I can't have…_

She reached up to kiss him, and he allowed himself a moments weakness before pulling away. She didn't know what she was doing. It was far better to put a stop to this now before he foolishly got his hopes up.

She stood before him, having come back in time for some reason she wouldn't explain, trying to convince him that she truly felt something for him. Her eyes burned into his, almost as if she was trying to tell him something, and for the briefest of moment he slipped into her mind. He could feel her terror and desperation, as well as a strong need for him in that moment. What made him finally relent though, was the flash of memory where he saw himself, motionless and bloody. For a moment he fought with his conscience, but selfishly decided that if he was going to die, he may as well take his one offered moment of happiness. He pulled her towards him.

He lay with her in his arms, his heart full with the realisation that he loved her. She was still better off without him. The last half hour had been more than he could ever have imagined, her fervour for him as strong as his for her. He'd had no other experience that could possibly compare, and he allowed himself a brief moment to imagine a possible future. Hermione's heart was almost full to bursting as she caught sight of evenings reading together in front of the fire, nights of passion, and even a glimpse of a dark eyed, curly haired baby bouncing on one knee. _Stupid fantasies…_

He pressed his lips to her forehead, denying himself once final taste of her sweet lips. He had to be strong, knowing what he would face in the coming hours.

He caught sight of her, pale and unsure as she watched him bleed out, and wished that she'd understood in that moment that he was doing this for her, for a better future without him holding her back. Would she ever understand what he did for her? Lily might have been the reason he had started on the long journey that had led him here, but Hermione was the reason he went to the end so willingly. _My love…_

The intense anguish of what he believed to be his final moments assaulted Hermione as she watched and felt them, and she began to weep silently. How could he think himself so worthless that she'd be better off without him? Did he still believe that?

He knew his anger at her for saving him was irrational, but he couldn't help feel cheated of his noble death. It was as if she'd thrown his noble sacrifice back in his face, despite the fact she could have had no clue of what he was doing and why. He felt tricked, she'd made him believe he was going to die, and he'd made his peace with it. Snape was vaguely aware he wasn't thinking clearly, his chest was agony, his thought sluggish and slow. If he'd been fully lucid he would have realised that using the time-turner wasn't the best plan, although he'd been able to see no other way of escaping her in that moment. He was still so intent on giving her that chance for life without him, all he could see was that by giving her time, she would have had the chance to move on with her life when he reappeared. His heart clenched painfully and he fell, dropping the time-turner. Time began to spin around him, but he was insensate within seconds.

Climbing back into consciousness felt like what he imaged what hitting a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour would be like. To his horror the first voice he was able to understand was hers, and before he could even think clearly he was turning from her, hurting her with his rejection.

He wasn't ready to see her, not really, although he'd already decided he would come to claim her when he was. But Minerva had purposely not told him that Hermione was leaving until the feast had ended, when she'd already left the castle. He'd panicked, as she'd clearly hoped he would, and apparated right onto the platform before he could think twice. It was too late, the train was already leaving. Apparating onto a moving vehicle was difficult, although he was capable of it, but the moment he saw her through the window, staring back at him with big hopeful eyes he'd frozen, unable to go after her. It was too soon. He still had too much to deal with, not least the way he'd been forced to treat her. She may have forgiven him, but he still needed to forgive himself.

The image of the train faded, along with the almost overwhelming feeling of his love that had blanketed her. As the room around her came back into focus, Hermione found herself wrapped up in Snape's arm, her palms pressed against his back, pulling him to her just as he held her against him. Their faces were so close their lips were almost touching, their eyes still glued to each other's.

For a moment she thought about kissing him, but he pulled his head back slightly, keeping one arm wrapped around her as he wiped the tears from her cheeks with his other hand. Merlin, it felt so good to be in his arms again. He smelled so amazing that she wanted to bury her face in his chest. Then he spoke.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to come, but I needed to make peace with my own actions before I could allow myself to let you back into my life."

Hermione said nothing, just watched and waited for him to continue.

"I've been talking to the staff at Hogwarts, as well as some of the members of the Order, both giving and receiving apologies for that last year, although I think I had far more to be sorry for than all of them put together. It did help me to remember why my actions were necessary, and not something I would have done if I'd had the choice. I don't think it was until I went out to Diagon Alley, my first time out in public, that I really understood. It wasn't just the people, although I admit I was surprised to find myself so… popular. It was the difference… between two years ago and now. Before there was a feeling of something… wrong, that had pervaded every part of our world. The contrast now… you perhaps cannot see it as clearly, as you have been part of the effort to restore it all."

Hermione shook her head slightly, but chose not to disagree. She'd been holed up at Hogwarts, and hadn't been part of any of the wider efforts to rebuild, although she understood what he meant, having seen the difference at the school.

Snape continued. "The lack of fear… it's different even from what it was like after the first war. There was always the sense of something lingering, or waiting, something rotting underneath. You and your friends have only ever known that, so you probably just accepted it as part of our world, but I remember what it was like before the Dark Lord grew powerful. Now it's like… clean air after a storm." He shrugged slightly. "I don't know how to describe it. But it's what I fought for, why I bullied my way through years of teaching, why I agreed to kill Dumbledore," he paused, looking deep into her eyes. "…Why I had to treat you the way I did."

"You don't need to explain or apologise to me, Severus. I knew what I was getting myself into, and I forgave you for it then."

"I know you did, but I didn't believe I deserved it then. I had to grant myself forgiveness first before I could accept yours."

"And have you… forgiven yourself I mean."

"Yes, that's one reason I knew for sure I had stopped loving Lily, and why I knew I was ready to see you." He held her closer. "I told you… a long time ago, for you at least, that only time would tell if you could truly forgive me for what I did. Do you… do you still forgive me?" His words were sure, but there was still the glimmer of a doubt shining in his eyes.

She smiled up at him, pulling one hand away from his back so she could run her fingers down his cheek. Oh, how she'd dreamed of touching him so for the past two years. "I forgive you, Severus," she whispered, before slipping her fingers round the back of his neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

It was chaste at first, although the feel of his lips against hers was nearly too much for her. She'd been waiting for this for so long, she could almost believe he was a figment of her imagination. Her mouth opened slightly, her tongue coming out to flick at the crease of his lips and with a groan he responded the same way, pulling her firmly against his body, his arms tight around her that Hermione could barely breathe or hear anything over the pounding in her ears. She wasn't aware of anything over the pounding in her ears, wasn't aware of anything beyond the feel of his arms his chest, his lips. In that moment nothing else existed.

When they finally parted both their chests were heaving and Hermione could feel her legs trembling. She peered up almost coyly at him. His eyes were dark and liquid, and he looked down at her as if she was part of a dream that would end any moment. Hermione was sure her own expression was similar.

"Hermione," his voice was low and husky, and sent a new shiver of delight through her. "It took me long enough to admit it to myself, but you must know by now that I…" He cut of as the door to the library swung open with a loud creak, and Harry barrelled through.


	72. Chapter 72

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

 

* * *

"Was that Ron and Luna? I thought I heard…" he cut off as he spotted the two of them standing with their arms still wrapped together.

Snape stiffened, his arms dropping and he tried to take a step back. Hermione refused to let him go, instead moving closer to him again. She knew that Harry would be happy for the two of them, and she wanted Severus to understand that she was in no way ashamed of being with him.

Happy gaped at the two of them for a moment before he found his voice. "Uh, I was going to ask now when dinner would be ready, as I have to slip out for a few minutes, but since it's supposed to be Hermione's turn to cook then I guess I should pick up some takeaway while I'm out." He looked directly at Snape. "I take it you're staying for dinner too."

Hermione was aware of the way Snape was looking down at her, rather than Harry, his posture still tense and anxious. He clearly didn't want to assume anything where she was concerned.

"Good idea, Harry," she replied brightly, before looking up at Snape. "What do you fancy, Severus? Chinese is probably the best you can find around here, but there's a half-decent Indian if you prefer."

He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "Whatever you think best," he replied quietly.

She realised that perhaps he had little experience with takeaway, despite his muggle upbringing. It was unlikely from what she could recall of his childhood memories that he would have tried either Chinese or Indian. _He barely looked fed at all, to be honest_. "Chinese, I think. Get a bit extra, and we can all share. You know what we like by now."

"Yeah, sure." He scrubbed his messy hair, leaving it even more stuck up than before. "Uh, Professor…?"

Snape turned to look at him then. "If you're going to ask me about your mother, then stop. I have more important things to deal with… today at least. But I will arrange to speak to you about her another time. I have one or two things I can also return to you that I have no need of anymore."

There was stunned silence for a moment as Harry's mouth gaped again, before he managed to stammer a reply. "I, uh… I'd really appreciate that, sir. But I was only going to say I'm glad you finally came. I can't think of anyone better for our Hermione."

Snape twitched in surprise.

"Thank you, Professor," Harry continued, "and sorry for misjudging you all that time."

Hermione smiled and leant her cheek against Snape's chest. She was so proud of Harry for saying so. He'd really grown up since the battle, once the crushing pressure on him to defeat Voldemort had gone.

Snape's arm slid around her waist again. "Thank you Potter. I should apologise too, for my treatment of you. I judged you based on reasons which now are no longer important, and were unfair to begin with." He glanced down at Hermione for a moment, and his face softened. Looking back up at Harry he extended a hand. "I hope we can start again."

Harry stepped forward and grasped his hand. "I'd like that." He moved back again. "Now, I think I'll leave you two to continue… whatever it was that I interrupted. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I'll leave a note for Ron and Luna not to disturb the two of you. If you don't appear for dinner, I'll make sure some food is left under stasis, as I'm sure you'll be hungry later."

"Harry…" Hermione warned.

"What?" he replied, his eyes wide and innocent, as he backed out of the room quickly. "I'm always hungry after a bit of… you know, exercise…"

He pulled the door closed behind him, but not before Hermione managed to grab her wand and shoot a stinging jinx at him. His muffled shout of pain made her giggle, but then the thought of what he was insinuating the two of them would be getting up to made her face heat, and she buried her face in Snape's chest.

She could feel his low rumble of displeasure as much as hear it. "I hope that's not his idea of starting afresh."

Hermione began to idly fiddle with the buttons at the front of his coat. "He's just happy for us, Severus. He knows better than most how hard it was for me after the battle. It took me a while to even accept that there was anything wrong."

Snape's mouth opened, most likely to offer another apology, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips. "Don't… I don't want any more apologies for what happened. We've obviously got a lot to talk about, but I think right now, I prefer Harry's idea." ;p-

"Oh…?" Snape's eyes glittered dangerously down at her.

She smiled coyly. "I think you know…" She wrapped her arms around his neck once more and apparated them both to her bedroom.

Snape looked around the room in surprise, stiffening when he realised where they were. "Are you sure," he asked, suddenly hesitant.

"More than anything." She looked down and blushed. "It's been two years since… well… you remember you put that charm on me so I couldn't… couldn't touch myself…"

His eyes widened in sudden understanding. "You mean… for two years? You've not… what about with someone else?"

She shook her head. "No, there was never anyone. I mean, there were one or two guys interested when I first started at St Mungo's, but I said no when they asked me out. They were idiots. I wouldn't have been interested even if I wasn't waiting for your return. I've been far too focused on my work in any case. If you'd turned me down I would have moved on… but I couldn't until I was sure of what you wanted."

He'd pulled his wand out while she was speaking and had tugged her hands up so he could cast the counter-spell. "I don't deserve you…" was all could say, before kissing her gently on the forehead.

"I think it's me that gets to decide whether you do or not." She fixed him with her best glare, but he only smirked back at her.

"And what have you decided?"

She made a show of thinking, tapping her finger gently on her lips, before he took it away gently and pressed a kiss to its tip before sucking on it gently. Hermione felt herself flush with heat, which only serve to embolden her. She pulled her finger from his mouth and turned her attention to his coat. "I think…" she, ordered, "you need to stop talking and help me with these clothes."

Snape looked down and realised that she'd already managed to get his jacket and shirt undone. He'd barely seen her move. "How did you do that?" He eyed her suspiciously as she grinned smugly back up at him.

"I found the charm ages ago, and practised it until I could do it silently and wandlessly, in the hopes that I would get the chance to do this. Now, are you just going to stand there?

Snape muttered something under his breath about bossy know-it-alls, making her smile, before reaching out to run a finger down the front of her own blouse. The buttons fell open at his touch, the way his had at hers, and his expression turned heated at the material gaped at the front exposing the swell of her breasts. He leant down to press his lips to her, pushing the blouse back off her shoulders even as he started backing her towards the bed.

* * *

Some time later they were lying in a tangle of sheets, her legs over his thigh and his fingers gently stroking her back as they lay close, facing each other. They'd had sex twice already, and from the look in his eyes as they wandered over her face and body, she was sure it wouldn't be long before they made it a hat-trick.

The first time they hadn't even managed to get rid of all their clothes before he'd pinned her to the bed, with only the quickest check to see that she was ready for him. She'd been so tight that it had taken a few gentle thrusts before he'd been able to push all the way into her heat, but once he was there Hermione had been unable to wait even a moment before digging her heels into his back and urging him on. Two years without even being about to get herself off had left her desperate and needy, and it hadn't much for him to push her over the edge, nor much longer before he followed her.

Afterwards they'd held each other in silence, kissing and stroking part of each other's skin they could reach, eventually pushing the rest of their clothes off as their touches became heated once more. This time he'd dragged her on top of him, pulling her down to lie on his chest as if he couldn't bear the space between them. He'd dug his fingers into her hips to guide her over him, even as he thrust up into her furiously, this coupling no less intense and urgent than the last. Once she'd got the rhythm he'd wanted he snaked a hand down between their bodies, quickly making her jerk with pleasure as she screamed his name. The loss of rhythm had compelled him to flip her over onto her back, where she'd stayed until they'd both come once more.

Now, as they lay still, getting their breath back, Hermione was finally able to reflect back on everything that had been said and shown in the past few hours. She could barely believe she was actually here with him, naked in his arms, when she'd been so sure she'd lost him. Now, she wondered, what came next for the two of them, now that they'd found each other? Before that, though, there was something else she wanted to ask.

"Severus?"

"Mmnn," he rumbled contentedly.

"Earlier… you said you had decided a week ago that you wanted to be with me …"

"That's correct."

"Then why did you wait so long to come to see me?"

With a sigh he rolled onto his back, and before she could protest at the loss of warmth he pulled her closer again, tucking her into his side so that her head rested on his shoulder. "I needed to plan what I would say. I was so nervous about facing you. I half-feared I had left it too long."

She smothered a giggle as his expression was serious, but she couldn't help her reply. "I can't imagine you being nervous just over what you would say to me, not when you spent so many years lying to Voldemort's face."

The deep line between his eyebrows lifted, and his mouth curled up slightly as he looked down at her. "You… Coming here to face you was infinitely harder than serving him."

Hermione smiled back gently, knowing he was only teasing her, although he had clearly been worried about what his reception from her would be. She lifted her hand to run a finger gently over his lips, something she had done once before, under very different circumstances. This time, instead of pulling away when she felt his gaze on her face, she felt a wave of warmth run through her as he grabbed her hand and pressed his cheek into her palm. She was in danger of losing her head and letting him have his way with her again, but there were things she still really wanted to talk to him about. She pulled her hand back, twisting her body slightly so she was propped up a little and could look into his eyes.

"Severus… please, don't take this to mean that I'm ashamed of you… of us, as I'm not, but how are we going to do this?"

"What do you mean?" He looked suddenly concerned, the heat in his eyes disappearing immediately.

"Well, the press are going to have a field day when they hear about this. It'll be everywhere, you've only just returned and there's so much interest in you already. The papers will be making up all sorts of awful stories about you seducing me when I was at school, or me seducing you in return for better grades. I don't want to hide it, I just don't want everyone speculating about our private lives, and I definitely want to tell our friends before they hear it elsewhere."

Snape's expression had gradually softened while she had spoken, as he realised that she wasn't about to reject him in some way. He opened his mouth to reply, but Hermione continued without seeming to notice.

"I also don't want to go public with this until we're absolutely sure this is what we want, long term I mean…" She finally seemed to notice the look on his face, for he was frowning unhappily at her now, and shifted slightly under her. "Severus, I don't mean that I don't want you, or that I'm planning on leaving you, because frankly I can't see myself with anyone else, and I hope you feel the same. I do love you, you must know that by now. But it doesn't mean that we won't end up driving each other crazy when in a normal relationship. What we've been through so far could never be considered either healthy or normal. I just want to give us a chance before we let everyone else in on what is a private matter between the two of us. And how are we going to live, or spend time with each other? I'll be working at St Mungo's and you'll be stuck… mmmpfh…"

Snape had placed a hand over her mouth, effectively shutting her up. "Gods, woman, do you ever stop babbling?"

Hermione shook her head in response, relieved to see the sparkle back in his eyes.

"I understand your worries, and we'll discuss them all further before making any decisions as to how to proceed." He took his hand off her mouth as he continued. "I did mean to speak to you earlier… before we became distracted with… other issues," he reached down to flick her nipple gently, making her breath catch and leaving her in no doubt as to what he meant. "…about a position that has opened up at Hogwarts. Slughorn wishes to leave, and although I have the leverage necessary to persuade him to stay a little longer, I wondered if you would like to take up his position. The point at which you are at in your mastery is more than enough to be able to teach at NEWT level, and if you wish, I can help you to complete your course. That way we can be together, and it would perhaps be easier to keep this… our relationship secret for longer."

He began to stroke the underside of her breast and her head fell back as pleasure coursed through her body once more. She needed a few moments to think about his proposal, but she didn't want him to stop what he was doing.

"Kiss me while I think about it," she requested. Snape smirked at her, before carefully rolling her over and settling himself down across her upper body. Slowly he began to kiss up the side of her neck, across her jaw. He eventually ended up at her mouth, leaving her breathless with desire as he gently nipped and sucked at her lips.

 _He's too good at this,_ Hermione thought, struggling to keep her head clear enough to think. Before long she could feel her own arousal start to build, as well as feel the evidence of his against her thigh. She pushed him back, wanting to finish the conversation before getting distracted.

"Severus…"

"You've decided?" He looked at her with such hopefulness that she almost changed her mind.

"I can't… I don't want to come back to Hogwarts, not yet anyway."

His face darkened, and he shifted back slightly. "But…"

She put her finger to his lips. "No, hear me out, please. We've done this all the wrong way round, being forced into the position we were in. I want to take our time with this, get to know each other, go out on dates. I've never dated anyone before. I want to look back in twenty, or however many years, and have no regrets. I want to remember doing it the right way, not that we rushed into it too quickly. I don't know about you, but I only plan on doing this once."

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her again. "That is my intention also."

Hermione started to run her fingers through her hair as she continued. "Besides, I don't think it's a good idea for you to tutor me for my masters. Once our relationship becomes public knowledge someone is sure to insinuate that it's the only reason I passed. I also need a break from Hogwarts. After you disappeared I barely left the castle in two years. I have to spend some time doing something different, somewhere different, although I have no objections to taking up a teaching position once I have my mastery in two years' time." She bit her lip as he nuzzled the tops of her breasts. "Do you think you can persuade Slughorn to stay that long?"

"I'm sure it's possible. Do you plan on living here for any length of time?" He moved on to kissing along her collarbone.

"I was thinking of finding my own place once I could afford it, why?"

"I'm just wondering how we will find time to see each other. And if we wish to keep our relationship to ourselves for some time, we will be unable to go on these… dates anywhere we are likely to be recognised."

"There are plenty of muggle places we can go. In any case, Severus, you're the headmaster. You can apparate in and out of Hogwarts whenever you wish, so it doesn't matter where I am." She moaned in disappointment as he lifted his head to look at her, making him smirk once more.

"There'll be plenty of time later to sort out the details. For now, I think there's something we'd both rather be doing." She gently pushed him back down towards her breasts. He quickly took the hint.

As much as their first two times had been heated and rushed, now they took their time, exploring each other's bodies lazily until Hermione was almost ready to beg him for more. Sensing her need, he finally settled between her thighs and carefully, almost reverently pressed himself into her, even as he kissed her breathless.

Stilling for a moment he pulled back so he could look into her eyes.

"I meant to tell you earlier, before we were rudely interrupted…" He paused, visually gathering his courage.

Hermione had guessed earlier what he was trying to say, and took pity on him now.

"I love you, Severus," she whispered, stroking the hair at his temples gently.

He smiled, a full genuine smile of delight that reached his eyes. "I love you too, Hermione." He leaned down to kiss her, before pulling his hips back to thrust gently into her again.

A good while later, as she lay in his arms, her need for him slaked for the moment at least, the last thought she had as she drifted into sleep, was that for the first time in over two years, she was truly content.


	73. Chapter 73

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1  
  
This is it...!  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
(7 years later)  
  
The students started to file out of the hall, chattering noisily as they went, excited for the holidays, but sad not to be seeing their friends again for a few months.  
  
Hermione turned to the figure beside her. "Well, that's that for another year at least. I can't wait for some peace and quiet, and nice long lie-ins." She reached under the table to squeeze his hand suggestively where it rested on his thigh. The corner of his mouth curled up slightly at her, as much of a smile as he usually showed in public, although it was becoming less rare of a sight every year.  
  
Hermione leaned forward to speaking to the witch on the other side of him "Do you need any help with getting everyone on the train?"  
  
"I'll always take any help getting that lot sorted, I swear they get worse every year. Either that or I'm getting too old for this job."  
  
"Nonsense, Minerva, you'll still be going when the rest of us are long retired," Severus rumbled quietly, before rising from his chair. "Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I have several things that must be done before the holidays can begin."  
  
As he turned to leave, his eyes caught Hermione's for a second, softening in a way that was only for her, and she smiled back up at him. "I won't be finished until late, I'm afraid. Will you wait up?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"You can join me for a drink in my rooms once we're done. Pomona and Filius are coming too." Minerva suggested.  
  
Severus only rolled his eyes. "I assume we won't be seeing you tomorrow until later in the day then," he said to Minerva, before leaning down to whisper seductively in Hermione's ear. "Don't have more than one or two, I'd rather like a more private celebration for the two of us later."  
  
Hermione could only bite her lip and nod as a wave of desire washed over her. How he could still made her feel that way after so many years she didn't know, but she certainly wasn't complaining. Without another word, Severus turned and left, and her eyes followed him as he made his way down the hall to the main doors, his teaching robes flowing around him as the remaining students parted to either side. Many wished him a good holiday as he passed, and he nodded in reply.  
  
Once he was out of earshot, Minerva leant across. "When are the two of you going to get married and start producing children for me to spoil? It's been long enough, and you've not kept your relationship a secret for years now." She had an expression on her face that Hermione couldn't quite decipher.  
  
She shrugged. "We're happy as we are Minerva. You know I'd marry him in a heartbeat if he asked, but I don't know whether he'll ever be ready for that. As long as we have each other, that's all that matters."  
  
It was true, but sometimes she couldn't help but wonder what a child of theirs would be like. An utter swot, no doubt, a son that looked like his father, or a daughter that looked like her, but with dark curly hair and black eyes. And Severus, she was convinced he would be an excellent father. He was still a strict teacher, but he had allowed his true personality to soften his interactions with the students somewhat, and was now universally liked and respected, albeit in a different way than Dumbledore had been.  
  
The first two years after his return, however, had been quite different, the top five years remembering all too well his previous stint as head. The older children, with the benefit of maturity, understood better than the younger, the circumstances that had forced Severus to act the way he had done. However the third and fourth years in particular had found it harder. It wasn't that they outwardly made things difficult for him, but they clearly were scared of him and found it hard to trust him.  
  
Hermione hadn't been working at the school at that time, having taken just under two years at St Mungo's finishing her mastery, but her heart had broken at the way he had spoken of the difficulties he'd had settling back into school life. He had often lain in her arms, recounting some story of distressed children believing that he was going torture them for some minor infraction, and she'd been horrified to see how badly it had affected him. Hermione was the only person to whom he would ever open up and confess his fears to, although Minerva had quickly noticed the problem herself and had taken steps to help, even going so far as to invite certain Order members to guest lecture in DADA and to talk about the war, including Severus's role.  
  
Time and a better understanding had eventually convinced even the most affected child that he truly wasn't the cruel and vindictive person he had seemed to be in the years before Voldemort's final downfall. Now free to be his own person for the first time in twenty years, he had almost had to discover what his own personality was. There was no chance of him ever becoming a dotty, sweet-loving headmaster, but he was now known as universally fair, kind and always ready to listen to any problem. Severus even had, on the rare occasion, been known to laugh, and there were students ever year who seemed to go out of their way to elicit a smile. Under his influence Slytherin house had lost most of their bad reputation, perhaps because he didn't favour any house over the other, unlike Dumbledore, and inter-house camaraderie had never been so good.  
  
A few months of living apart and seeing each other on days off and on as many evenings as they could manage with two busy schedules, had convinced them both they wanted more. Severus had secretly had the floo in his room connected to the one in Grimmauld Place, once Hermione had decided that there was no point buying or renting a house herself if she was only going to move to Hogwarts. They'd managed to keep their relationship secret from the wizarding world, if not their nearest and dearest, for about ten months. Neither was prepared to hide their affections, or to seem to the other or any observer that they were ashamed of their relationship, but they'd limited their outings to muggle restaurants and attractions, and spent lots of time just relaxing and enjoying each other's company either at Grimmauld Place or in his rooms at Hogwarts.  
  
Although Hermione had at first been somewhat amused at all the witches throwing themselves at him, and while she trusted that Severus would never look twice at any of them – unless he was hexing them - she'd quickly become annoyed with it. It had only been an hour into the first official function that they'd both been asked to attend; the three year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, where the Ministry had insisted on presenting the Order of Merlin to Severus, before Hermione had grown fed up of being pushed aside and looked down on by several beautiful women vying for his attention.  
  
She'd eventually snapped, dragging Severus out for a few minutes, and when they'd returned to the Hall, she'd been on his arm. They'd made it clear they were together when he'd swept her onto the dance floor, refused all other offers for dances, and in front of everyone, kissed her gently at the end of a particularly slow dance. Those who already knew just acted like there was nothing strange about it, but it hadn't taken long for the story to spread to those who had not seen for themselves.  
  
The article that had been in the newspaper the next morning had been strangely subdued, the normal accusations of impropriety and scandal absent, although Hermione had assumed the conversation she'd spotted between Severus and the editor of the Prophet near the end of the evening had something to do with it.  
  
After that, they'd started appearing out together more, going shopping together in Diagon Alley or for a meal in Hogsmeade, but because of Severus's position, they were careful not to do anything that might be seen as inappropriate. It would not be acceptable for someone to come across the Hogwarts' headmaster and his girlfriend snogging and groping each other in some public place. Not that she had ever been one for public displays of affection, although that hadn't stopped them from taking advantage of an almost empty castle during the holidays. By and large the news of their relationship hadn't created much of a fuss after the first few days, as the upcoming nuptials of the Chosen One had taken up most of the column inches.  
  
Hermione had, of course, passed her mastery with honours, and no one had been able to say a word against her appointment as the new potions professor with such an achievement. Not wanting to give up her academic pursuits completely she'd made arrangements to start a charms mastery, although it was very much a part-time pursuit. When she had moved into the castle she had insisted on her own rooms as a matter of decorum – while their relationship was accepted there were always people looking for a good scandal.  
  
The castle, had however, even without Severus's bidding, reduced her rooms to a non-descript hall with three doors and a study leading off from one of them, just in case pupils came knocking. One door from the hall opened into Severus's hall, and another straight into his bedroom. He had told her that he'd attempted to change it back, and that the castle was preventing it, but Hermione wasn't so sure that he'd really tried that hard. He'd clearly enjoyed having her there all the time, and surprisingly they'd had fewer issues learning to live with each other than she'd expected, considering that he was still a grumpy old sod a lot of the time.  
  
In the last few years they'd not been so worried about hiding their relationship, and while they never did anything too overt around the students, they weren't so worried about being seen in each other's company around the castle, although Severus had always been careful to not show favouritism towards her, both for the students' benefit and the staff's. In general everyone was so used to the idea of them being together it was barely spoken of, even in the Hogwarts' gossip mill. When amongst their friends they were not very demonstrative, although those who knew them well could recognise the small signs of affection they showed towards the other, and could see that they were both happy.  
  
In private, however, he was a different person, attentive and caring. If she tried to tell others what he was like she was sure they probably wouldn't believe her. Harry and Ron, she knew, were still weirded out by the fact that she slept with Severus, although they were more than happy for the two of them. Hermione couldn't envision a day when she wouldn't be with him, she wanted to live the rest of her life by his side. She would have loved to declare that to the rest of the world by getting married, especially as their relationship had been conducted almost all in private. Nothing big, just a few friends, a simple ceremony and a small celebration after. And then the train of thought always would always bring her back to the idea of having a child… Would he ever want one? She knew that long ago she had seen, in his memories, a dream of the future with her and a family. But he'd believed himself to be marching towards his death at the time, so it didn't necessarily mean anything beyond regret for a life not lived. He'd never said anything since, so she could only assume he was happy with the status quo.  
  
"I know what that look means… I've been around long enough to know when a woman gets broody," Minerva said, tapping her on the arm and breaking her train of thought. "No, no, I won't say anymore," she continued, when she saw Hermione frown. "Come on, let's go and make sure they all managed to make it on the train safely. Wouldn't want any to be left behind now, would we."  
  
"Dear Merlin, no," Hermione replied quietly as she stood, pushing thoughts of Severus and marriage away once more. She always looked forward to the summer holidays as the quiet meant that she could get far more work done, and in a way, she was far more aware of the Hogwarts as a somewhat sentient being when it wasn't filled with noisy children. "The castle always feels so different when the children aren't here," she said. "I quite enjoy the emptiness of it."  
  
Minerva's eyes glinted. "I'm sure you do," she said with a grin.  
  
Hermione could only blush. She hadn't been thinking of it until Minerva had reminded her, that they had, on more than one occasion during the summer months, taken advantage of the empty castle in a way that they never would when the students were there. Minerva had actually managed to come across them three times, twice when they were barely getting started, and once when they were in full flow. The two of them had been more embarrassed about it than Minerva had, and she would take every opportunity to remind them of it, in private at least.  
  
She turned her attention to the last few children who hadn't yet left the hall in order to avoid replying to the older witch. "Come on, you three. You can finish your conversation on the train." She shooed the students out before her.  
  
It was quite late, as Minerva and the other two professors had refused to let her leave before now. Hermione was making her way back to their rooms when a shimmery form appeared down the corridor in front of her, padding towards her sedately. As she neared it, Hermione reached out to stroke its muzzle. The panther pressed eagerly into her hand, and as always, she could feel warmth spread through her at the contact, something she had always believed to be an echo of Snape's love for her.  
  
The panther opened its mouth to speak. "I'm in the astronomy tower, if you'd like to join me," Snape's voice whispered silkily, and Hermione recalled suddenly his earlier promise of a private celebration. Once its message had been delivered, the panther began to rub itself up against her again, brushing against her with its shoulder and side, even as it began to dissipate.  
  
When she got to the next junction of corridors she turned right, instead of continuing on to her entrance to their rooms. She wasn't too far away from the stairs leading up the tower, so it didn't take long before she was ascending the steep steps up to where she assumed Severus was waiting.  
  
She was surprised to reach the top and find herself in the dark. She could only just make out where the stones ended and the sky began because of the twinkling of the stars.  
  
"Severus?" she called, pulling out her wand with the intention of creating a light. But before she could cast, first one candle flame suddenly roared into life, then more and more, until the whole of the space was bathed in the flickering light of a thousand flames, glinting off the lenses and sweeping golden arches of the telescope.. Hermione gaped in surprise, as two arms came front behind to wrap around her waist.  
  
"Right on time, my love," was the silky whisper in her ear.  
  
She twisted in his arms. "What's all this for?" she asked, waving one hand in the direction of the candles as she used the other to tuck her wand away again. "Isn't it a bit much just to celebrate the start of the holidays?"  
  
"That's not why I asked you here." He smiled, but she thought she could detect a trace of nervousness in his expression. She chose not to say anything in reply. She'd learnt over the past years that he would only ever tell her when he was ready to.  
  
Severus pulled her gently towards the centre of the space as he began to speak. "I once thought my life had effectively ended in this place. The night I killed Albus I believed that I would either die trying to defeat the Dark Lord from within his ranks, or if I managed to survive, be placed in Azkaban for the rest of my days. Then I found you, and I can safely say my life hasn't been the same since. It took me a long time to understand how I felt, and even longer to accept that you returned my feelings.  
  
"You brought me back to life, both literally and figuratively. You showed me that my future didn't have to be dictated solely by my past, that I had the chance to do the things that I once dreamed of and never believed would happen."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to reply, still confused by what they were doing up in the tower, and by Severus' unusual behaviour, but he stopped her with a kiss before continuing.  
  
"I have almost all the things I dreamed of, and I hope that you will help me with the last two." He pulled her closer, his hands tightly gripping her upper arms. This close she could see the terror in his eyes, and her own heart started to beat wildly as she began to realise what he possibly was about to say.  
  
"I want a family, a wife and child…"  
  
"What, only one?" Hermione joked nervously, trying to break the tension.  
  
He looked slightly relieved. "Let's see how the first one turns out," he replied with a slight smile, before turning serious again. He let go of her arms and took her hands in his. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Hermione." He paused, before taking a deep breath. "Will you do me the honour of becoming my wife? I promise I shall spend every day making you as happy as I possibly can."  
  
Hermione could feel the tremble in his hands as he waited for his answer. "And what about you? Will you be happy?" she asked intently, as her heart seemed to stop beating in her chest.  
  
"You make me happy. Every day I think of how lucky I am to have you in my life, and I never want you to leave it."  
  
"Then yes," she flung her arms around his neck. "Yes, I will marry you."  
  
He wrapped his arms back around her waist and pulled her in for a deep kiss that lasted some time. When they were both finally out of breath they pulled back from each other slightly, sheepish grins on both their faces.  
  
Thinking back on the evening that had led them to this point, Hermione suddenly put two and two together. "Wait… did Minerva know you were planning this?"  
  
He tried to look innocent but failed. "Why? Why do you ask?"  
  
"Because she said something to me earlier about children and marriage, and she and Pomona and Filius worked very hard at getting me to stay for drinks until late."  
  
"She may have had orders to keep you there until half ten, even if she had to restrain you. I did have work to do, and then I needed to set everything up before you arrived. I'm surprised you didn't guess, Minerva's been ridiculously excited ever since I asked her for help. I don't know how she managed to keep quiet."  
  
"She's desperate for babies to spoil," Hermione laughed. "But I think she'll have to wait a little longer. I'd like a little more time with just the two of us first."  
  
"I won't complain about that." He bent down to kiss her again, before nuzzling his way across her cheek to nibble at her ear, just the way he knew made her crazy.  
  
She scrabbled for her wand, struggling to keep her head long enough to conjure a rug and a small pile of cushions on the stone floor. She steered him towards it, before pushing him to the floor and following him down, even as her fingers tore at his shirt.  
  
"Would you complain if I wanted to get in plenty of practise, at least until we get it perfect?" she asked as she started to kiss her way down his chest.  
  
"Not at all," he replied with a groan, his fingers tangling in her hair. "I wouldn't want it any other way."  
  
THE END  
  
I can't believe this story is finally finished. What started out as a random idea has turned into a 16 month long saga. Thanks to everyone who took the time to review, especially those who reviewed regularly and to all the readers who stuck it out to the end. You really kept me going, even when it was difficult to find the right words to express what I wanted to say. I look forward to seeing you all on the next story. XxX


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